Day 42
by Katharin the Dragon
Summary: Three lives are devastated when Grayson kisses Jane on the day she plans to marry Owen. How can any of them ever be happy again? 42 days later something changes that sends them all on journeys of courage, sacrifice, and self-discovery. Happily ever after is worth fighting for. *** Jane/Owen *** but we still love Grayson, too
1. Day 42 - Positive

**Day 42**

* * *

_It's never enough to say I'm sorry_  
_It's never enough to say I care_  
_But I'm caught between what you wanted from me_  
_And knowing that if I give that to you I might just disappear_  
_Nobody wins when everyone's losing_

* * *

Everything changed 42 days after Jane Bingum kissed Grayson Kent on her wedding day. 42 days of watching Grayson stare into her office when he thought she wasn't looking. 42 days of bumping elbows with her fiancé Owen while trying not to apologize for the 42nd time. 42 days of drifting farther and farther apart from the man she was supposed to marry.

"It's a pretty simple question," Paul said on day 27 over his third plate of spaghetti. "Which guy do you love?"

"Pretty simple answer," she replied. "I love them both."

"Oh…" Paul nodded slowly, furrowing his brow. "Sorry, but heaven no longer condones polygamy."

Jane grimaced, "Yeah, well neither does California law. Nor do I."

Grayson was reaching out. He had refused to give up. He had, apparently, refused to apologize to Owen, and told anyone that would listen that he was in love with her. With _her._ After all these years of watching him from outside, her stomach curling every time his arm was wrapped around the waist of a new woman, she finally had what she had been waiting for. His heart.

Only she already had another man's heart.

And they both had hers.

**Day 36**

"If I wanted Grayson, I could have him."

"What?" Owen looked up from the papers he was buried in across her desk. He spent a lot of time on the other side of the desk these days. No smiles, no laughter, just his constant presence. If he wasn't ready to marry her, he was just as reluctant to leave her side.

"I said, if I wanted Grayson I could have him. Right now. "

"I actually heard you. It's just kind of an odd thing to say."

"I know. Sorry. Trying to make a point."

Owen shrugged. "Doesn't change what happened."

**Day 37**

"I don't even get what you see in Owen."

Jane raised her eyebrows inquisitively. "Grayson, that's not really a conversation you and I and I can have right now."

Owen's constant presence was a brick, and she was drowning slowly. His grief, disappointment, his anger - they were a millstone around her neck. Jane wanted to shrug it all off, to comfort him, to kiss him, to erase her decision, to bring back the past. But he wasn't interested in apologies or assurances. He just wanted to be there, the human incarnation of the elephant in the room.

Grayson's presence, on the other hand, was a bumblebee, flitting in and out of her consciousness. He'd suddenly show up in office, her home, her lunches, her heart, her thoughts, her fantasies. He buzzed in her ear with pointed questions and subtle hints.

"Just hear me out," Grayson said. "The guy bumps around the office like he owns the place. He's been here, what, two weeks? And he practically has the intern saluting him."

"You don't know him like I do," Jane said. "When we were in Italy…"

"If I had come to Italy, would you have married me?"

She sighed. "I can't have this conversation right now, Grayson. We have a case."

His words stung.

**Day 38**

"Maybe the answer is none of the above," Paul said quietly.

Jane sighed. Without asking, she knew what he meant.

"If you don't love one of them enough to let go of the other, then…" he trailed off.

"It's not that I don't love one over the other, it's that the idea of hurting one or the other makes it hard to untangle the love… I can't even find my own feelings. I loved Grayson so much and for so long. We were going to build a whole life together. We had a house and we were going to have _children_ and my parents _loved_ Grayson. I still feel it deep down in my heart when I look at him and when he looks at me.

"But Owen… he saw right into me, from the first time he saw me. And when I saw myself in his eyes, I actually liked myself. The new me. All of me. I saw myself pretty and interesting and when we danced it was like magic, like together we knew all the moves by heart, even before we'd learned them and when we made love it was even better. Kissing Owen was like… like travelling to Italy again for the first time.

"But kissing Grayson was like coming home again."

**Day 42**

She slid the box out of the brown paper bag she had secreted it home in. She snuck it past Stacy – she knew Stacy would be the perfect person to talk to but not about _this_. Not until she knew either way. Either way was fine. Well, it wasn't. Not fine. Not really. But either way she could talk to Stacy, unleash the barrage of words that had been building slowly for the last two weeks.

Waiting, she remembered their last night together. Not the night before the wedding; they were too busy, too tired then. Satisfied that all preparation for the next day was complete, they fell asleep on the couch, heads leaning opposite ways, fingers barely touching, an electric current of satisfaction floating back and forth between them. Jane's stomach fluttered a little bit each time she thought of the next day. Sometimes her her gut clenched with fear, other times her heart stirred with glorious anticipation.

But the last good time together – was that when it had happened? She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to remember that night. She felt his rough cheek pressed against hers. The light bump of her nose against the side of his as she tilted her chin up to kiss his lips. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her firmly against him.

She shook out of her reverie and glanced down at her verdict.

Positive. It was positive. One more complication, one more variable in the impossible equation that was her life.

She stared down at the little white stick, at the straight line and the little plus sign next to it. She bit her bottom lip. "Owen," she whispered.


	2. Day 43 - I'll Drive

**Day 43**

* * *

_It took the hand of God almighty, to part the waters of the sea,_

_But it only took one little lie to separate you from me._

_Oh, we are not as strong as we think we are._

* * *

When he sat across her desk, the silence was almost comfortable. Over the past six weeks, the silence had gone from crisp and tense to restricted but almost companionable. There was a short list of words that could re-chill the air around them, but as long as they stuck to work, they were fine.

Owen liked sitting in Jane's office. Much more than sitting in his own office, which was still lacking something. He hadn't quite defined what. He worked late into most nights, actively searching for more clients, stuffing his schedule as full of work as he could get it. If effort alone could do it, Owen French would be pulling Harrison & Parker out of the ground single-handedly.

But whenever he could find the excuse, he sat in Jane's office. He waited in the chair while she filled out time sheets. If he needed a letter drafted or if she forgot to copy him on an important message, he'd brush right past Teri and sit in the chair in the corner until she was finished. If he had to deliver a case or a file, he would stay five, ten, twenty extra minutes to wait and hear her opinion on it – for professional reasons, of course. Over time, the need for an excuse diminished. He just came in… a lot… and stayed.

Today, when he walked in to her office, _he_ was already there. Grayson Kent was standing just inside the door. Owen couldn't pretend that he had ever liked Grayson. He had enjoyed ribbing the attorney when they first met, but he had been so sure then that Jane loved him, and that Grayson wasn't any kind of threat. Now he was not only a threat, but one step away from being the one that conquered him. He didn't like that type of competition, he wasn't used to it, and he didn't know how to respond to it. Mostly he threw around sarcasm-laden words and stayed away from the man as much as possible.

"Morning Mr. Kent," he grumbled. He sat down in the chair across the desk as though he belonged there. "Good work on the Henning case. Jane not in yet?"

Grayson pointed his eyebrows at the empty chair. "Apparently not?"

Owen nodded grimly. "You two are working together on this." He waved a file in Grayson's direction. "Apparently it's one of your old files that's being appealed."

"I'll hold onto that for you." Grayson offered his hand.

Owen shook his head, tight-lipped. "I can wait for Jane."

Grayson raised both eyebrows. "Suit yourself." He sat down in the corner chair.

Three and a half minutes passed in rigid silence. Grayson broke through. "Why are you still here?"

Owen resisted the bait. "I told you - I'm waiting for Jane."

"You know that's not what I mean."

"Then please tell me, Mr. Kent. What do you mean?" Owen swung the chair around.

"You called off the wedding, everyone says you barely talk to Jane, yet you took a job here at the office. You're in her office every day. When are you going to leave?"

Jane walked in. Her steps were less sure than usual – Owen surmised she was upset about something, or Teri had warned her that he and Kent were together in her office.

She glanced from one face to another, then set her bag down on the floor next to her desk. She pulled her prettiest smile, but her eyes were distant. "Good morning, gentlemen. To what do I owe this early morning company?"

"I have a case for you," Owen said.

"For us," Grayson corrected.

"For you, plural," Owen said. A slight frown crossed his face but he quickly replaced it with his preferred disinterest. "An old case you two worked on a few years ago. Peterson was your defendant. There has been new evidence raised against Peterson and you are looking at a possible appeal."

"Oh… wow, really? Okay... Grayson do you think you can handle that without me, at least for this morning? I need to visit the doctor this morning and I was only coming in to find out how things went with the Henning case and see if I needed to do anything for it."

Two sets of masculine brows furrowed and asked, nearly in unison, "Is everything ok?"

"Is there something wrong?" Owen didn't feel badly talking over Grayson and nearly walking in front of him to get Jane's attention.

"I'm fine. I need to go for a few tests. I don't really want to talk about it, if that's okay. Not yet." She smiled at them both, but they were being dismissed.

Grayson put his hand on her arm. "If you need to talk, let me know. I'll get caught up on this case and get you up to speed when you get back, okay?"

She smiled again. "Thanks, Grayson."

Grayson walked, but Owen didn't follow. He waited until the other man was out of earshot. "What time is your doctor's appointment this morning?"

"It's at 10:15. Why?"

"I'd like to drive you, if that would be all right with you. You don't have to talk about it. I'll just stay in the waiting room if you want."

She looked him in the eyes, apparently caught off guard. "Really? That's very thoughtful." She paused. "Yes; okay. I'd like that."

They walked to his car in silence, the same almost-comfortable silence that pervaded their working together. He held the door to the car for her. She seemed to find this less charming than she had while they were dating, he caught her rolling her eyes slightly when she thought he wasn't looking.

As they pulled out of the parking lot, Owen looked up and thought he saw Grayson staring out the window at again. His eyes were always on Jane. Even when he wasn't around, he seemed to be watching her somehow.

"Where to?" Owen asked, pulling onto the expressway.

"Do you know the medical complex on Amelia Boulevard?" she asked.

"Oh, sure," he answered. "I don't go there, but I think Olivia does. Have you eaten?"

"I'm not hungry right this second, but maybe afterwards. Maybe."

He nodded. It was a thirty minute drive to the office, and they made small talk about current cases and changes in the law that were mutually interesting but not interesting enough to animate their words.

They pulled in and parked and walked quietly toward the lobby. Jane checked the elevator sign and they ascended. Owen looked quizzically at her choice, but she did not volunteer information, nor did he ask, even when they walked into the small office of an OBGYN whose name was understandably unfamiliar to him.

When the nurse called Jane's name he grabbed her hand and gave it the lightest of squeezes. "Do you want me to go with you? I mean, is it something very private, or is it something you're worried about and you might want moral support?"

Jane let out a deep, slow sigh. "You can come with on two conditions. One, promise not to look at me in the paper gown, and two, promise not to have a heart attack."

"I – okay, I promise…?"

Jane nodded. "Come on, then."

The nurse handed Jane a small cup. "The bathroom's right there," she directed.

Jane did as directed and carried the cup of nasty yellow liquid into the examination room. Avoiding Owen's eyeline as she attempted to carry a sealed cup of her own urine with as much dignity as possible, she handed it to the nurse.

"Thank you. Here's your gown," the nurse said. "We'll give you a few minutes to change, then the doctor will come and talk with you. You're due for a yearly examination but that won't take long. Everything else is pretty routine. Is this the father?" she gestured at Owen.

"The father…" Owen's eyes widened. He felt the blood drain from his face.

"Yes," Jane answered softly.

The nurse smiled at Owen encouragingly. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," he said, his eyes still wide. He turned to Jane and voluntarily made eye contact – nearly the first time since the start of the day. "Congratulations?" he said, his voice creaking with hesitation.

Jane shrugged her shoulders coquettishly, smiling, but her lips were trembling and her eyes were fearful, searching his. "Why, thank you, Mr. French."

He dropped into a chair and heaved a deep sigh.


	3. Night 43 - The Shut Up Rose

**Night 43**

* * *

_The glass is cut, the bottle run dry, _

_Our love runs cold, in the caverns of the night._

_ We're wounded by fear, injured in doubt, _

_I can lose myself, you I can't live without._

* * *

On the drive home, neither one knew how to begin the conversation. Owen attempted to bridge the gap. "Are you hungry?" he asked quietly.

"No," Jane said.

"Yeah, me neither," Owen frowned, his stomach grumbling slightly.

"Are you angry?" Jane asked.

He huffed. "About this? About a baby? No. God no. How could I be angry about a baby? When did you-?"

"I just found out last night, Owen. So I'm still in shock myself."

"And they got you in to see the doctor the next day?" he asked. "How did you manage that administrative miracle?

"Well, I called this morning and I was a bit… um, frantic? and they had a cancellation…"

He made a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a snort at the thought of the frantic phone call. "Oh, I just bet."

They were quiet again.

"It changes a lot," Jane said softly after a while.

"It changes some things," he said. "We need to talk."

"Well, I've tried to talk to you, Owen, but you have yet to let me finish," she said. Her voice was quiet and resigned.

"That's… slightly more than half true," he said. "But then again, when we have talked, you haven't exactly been forthcoming. Not to mention-"

"Yes," she snapped, cutting him off. "I know. I'm the one that kissed someone else. Well, actually, I kissed him back, which I suppose is nearly as bad."

"Oh, very nearly," he answered dramatically.

Jane sighed.

"Let's have dinner," he said suddenly.

"Excuse me?"

He turned to face her and raised both eyebrows meaningfully.

"You want to have dinner?" she said.

"Let's have dinner and I'll hear what you have to say," he repeated.

"Okay. Where shall we eat?"

"I'll drive. I'll pick you up at 8, and we'll try not to stay out too late. I'm sure you're tired."

"I'm fine."

"Okay, you're fine. I'm sure you're fine. But you're also pregnant and you're going to get tired, if you're not yet."

"I said, I'm fine, Owen."

"Okay, I'm just saying, we'll try not to stay out late."

"Fine," she responded cuttingly.

"Fine." They drove along in silence again.

"You and _Grayson_ have a bit of work to do this afternoon, but if you need anything, I expect to be in my office for the rest of the day."

In his more jovial moods, Owen referred to Grayson curtly by his last name. When he said it like this, _Grayson_, the first name with the heavy emphasis, it was one of those words that brought the chill back. Jane didn't even bother to look at him after that.

* * *

Jane left work early. Trying to work around Grayson was even more painful than working around Owen. His eyes were always on her. She had to be so careful what she said. It was still hard, after the years that had passed, to not refer to old friends or old times or shared interests. Occasionally, it was still hard not to reach out and touch him in an intimate way, grabbing him by the arm or pressing a kiss to his cheek when he looked so sad.

At the same time, her brain worked differently now. As Deb she was able to accept his feelings at face value, but now as Jane, she was analyzing them – was he being manipulative? Was he fixating unrealistically? What would actually happen if they were together? How long would he be interested in her? Would he love her as much as he had loved Deb? Would she even be able to keep from telling him who she was?

It was mentally exhausting and now she had a completely different set of problems to worry about.

So she left early, assuring Grayson that she knew he could handle it all, and that she just didn't feel well. She went straight home. She changed her clothes into something pretty but not too inviting – no need to try and use her wardrobe to influence Owen. At least not overtly. She chose a sweet black dress with a wide red belt and brushed out her hair. Then she threw on an apron and baked. It seemed like only half an hour later when the doorbell rang.

She greeted him at the doorbell with a friendly smile. "Hello, Owen. Is it eight o'clock already?"

He handed her a small bouquet of red and yellow flowers. "It is. Kent tells me you left early. Are you feeling all right? We can postpone this-"

She cut him off. "I'm fine. I was just feeling crowded."

She dropped the flowers into a vase on the breakfast bar and grabbed her purse.

* * *

He led her into the restaurant and Jane recognized the scene immediately. The large room was darkened intimately. There were no lights in the main dining area except for the candlelight at one small table in the middle of the room. A glass vase bearing a single rose bud, brilliantly red but almost completely closed, stood in the middle of the tablet.

"Well," she said, looking around with a little smile, "There aren't too many men who would rent out an entire restaurant for an evening – twice."

He winked at her. "That's true, there aren't. Like I said before, the owner is a friend." He walked to the table and pulled out the stem from the vase. "This is for you. It's a special kind of rose."

"That's nice, thank you. Pretty. What kind of rose is it?"

"It's a 'shut up' rose."

Jane chuckled. "A what?"

"A shut up rose." He smiled. "It's something my mom used to make Olivia and I do when we were younger. We had a shut up stick. While one person is holding it, they are allowed to say whatever they need to say. And the other person-"

"Has to 'shut up.'" She wrinkled her nose and chuckled again. "Got it. That's cute."

"I thought so."

"Well, Owen…" Jane fingered the thorny stem, turning it over and over in her hands, careful not to stick herself. "The truth is, I want to hear you, first. I've been trying to tell you that. I want to hear how angry you are and I want you to let all that out. I know I was the one that was wrong, and I will talk about that. But I really want you to talk first."

Owen frowned. "I see."

Jane extended the rose. "So, please, Owen. Tell me. I promise I will listen."

"Fine." He grasped the rose and shook his head. His face was expressionless. "I still don't feel ready to talk. I'm afraid I'll explode at you."

"Please explode at me, Owen. Just this once."

"Okay…. Fine." He frowned again. "Here goes… how could you kiss Grayson? Why did you kiss Grayson? How long did you love him? Have you slept with him? How could you look at him like that? No, SEE." He pounded his fist on the table. The gesture was restrained but still shook their plates. "I can't… I can't even articulate because I don't know what happened. I know what I SAW. I saw you… in your wedding dress… five minutes AFTER we were supposed to be married – with your mouth against his… goddammit Jane…. and then you saw me, and your face turned red… a wrong kind of red.. and then I felt my heart give out… metaphorically.. And then literally and… that fucking _Grayson_ guy, with his smirk and his Kent-doll looks. Why did you like him better than me, Jane? Why did you ask me to marry you if you wanted to kiss him? Did you- did you sleep with him, Jane? Here, I really want to know that. No, I don't. But I really do-"

He handed her the rose, then. A drop of blood slowly wound its way down his wrist. He wiped it off with a napkin, never taking his eyes from her face.

Jane closed her eyes against his gaze. She remembered being Deb. She remember lying next to Grayson on mornings when she had still been in her twenties. Sitting in his lap in the big armchair in the living room. Waking him up early on Saturday mornings just to be together, just to make love.

She had been someone else then.

"I never slept with him, Owen," she said. "I never even kissed him before that moment. I never even knew he looked at me that way. I swear. I swear… on our unborn child's life." She extended the rose out to him.

He didn't take it. "But you loved him?"

"Answering that question is a long story."

"I think I'd rather a long story than a simple denial, Jane."

"Okay. Fine. I'll try." She set the rose down. "Did I ever tell you about the day I died?"

He nodded slightly. "Gunman, Parker, married woman, brave attorney, miraculous reawakening-"

"Yeah. Well, I died that day. I really died that day, Owen. You can check the records. And then I came back." She breathed deeply. "When I came back, I was a different woman. Ask anyone. I dressed differently. I acted differently. I still had… my own brain. But I lost a lot of my memories. I was a different person. Ask Teri.

"I probably never told you that Grayson came to Harrison-Parker that same time. His girlfriend died… at the same time as me. The same date. He interviewed at our firm and came to work the next day. And when I saw him, I just – I loved him. And he had just lost Deb and I wanted to comfort him, but I couldn't. He didn't see me. I mean, of course he did, literally. He thanked me for getting him the job – I don't know how I met him or how I got him the job, Owen, I can't remember any of that, those memories are gone. But he started dating Kim… geez, almost right away. And then there were other girls that he dated, too, always someone. I even helped plan his wedding. I was his best man." She rolled her eyes. "And we were great friends. But I did, Owen, I did love him.

"And then, just when I was completely heartbroken, someone told me to get over myself and move on. So I did." She straightened her posture and her jacket, nodded sharply. "That was the first day – the day we had dinner. You and I. And you loved me for who I was. When I was with you, I actually liked myself, too. It was wonderful."

She looked over at him. His shoulders were slumped and his expression was crestfallen. "Owen-"

"I was your second choice, and then on our wedding day, you found out that your first choice actually loved you after all. Of course you kissed him."

Her eyes widened. "No, Owen, that's not what I said. I mean, okay," she gestured wildly, "I suppose that is one way to look at it but-"

He didn't say anything, but his eyes were rimmed red. He swallowed hard.

"Let me… let me tell you a story," she said.

"Jane-"

"No- please." She grabbed the rose. "Shut up, Owen," she said firmly.

He nodded.

"Once upon a time, there was a girl who had made herself sick over the same man over and over again, but he never noticed. She sang him songs, she gave him gifts, and she gave him all of her time, but he just wanted to be friends. One day she decided to let him go and she gave her heart to a good man - a different man.

"When she gave her heart to someone else, he took good care of it. Not always." She rolled her eyes and chuckled. "He didn't know how, at first. But he did something _amazing_. He _learned how_. He offered to take her to race boats," she laughed, "but she didn't want to, so when she wanted to go to Italy instead he changed his plans for her… his big plans. He took her everywhere she wanted to go in Italy, and when she wanted to go home he went with her… and every day with him was better than the last and when he actually asked her to stay with him forever…" she trailed off, staring into his forlorn face.

"I'm sorry," she said. "You were right, there's no way to go back there." She set the rose down. "But you know what? I still want to try. Maybe we can… make something better."

"I just wish you had been honest about your feelings for Grayson," Owen said.

Jane barked a laugh. "Oh, really, Owen? You would have wanted to know how I felt about him, seriously? Hey, I'm in love with you and I want to spend my life with you. Oh, but, hey, just so you know, that guy that's always hanging around? Yeah, I've been nursing feelings for him for the last three years. Just FYI." She tossed the ends of her hair and glared at him.

He chuckled mirthlessly and shrugged, "Well… it doesn't really make me feel any better, Jane, but I am willing to try to move forward. That's the best I can do right now."

"I guess our food is cold."

He pointed at the plates, "Cold turkey sandwiches and gazpacho. I wasn't actually sure if we'd get to it at all so I asked him to make something cold."

"Well, aren't you clever?" she sniffed.

He sighed. "Hey, let's do something different." He pushed his chair out and picked up his plate, then walked around to her side of the table. "Let's not talk anymore."

He sat down in the chair next to her and put his left arm around her shoulders. It wasn't really comfortable for either of them but it was good. They both ate and ate some more. Owen sheepishly carried a bottle of wine off the table and back into the kitchen, returning with a pair of non-alcoholic spritzers. "Sangria for the lady?"

"Thank you," she said softly. "They drank in silence, a new kind of silence. There was more pain in it, but less anger.

"I guess I should head home for the night," he said when the tall cups were drained and they were picking at sugared apple slices.

"I was wondering… if you'd like to come home with me for the night," Jane replied. "You don't have to stay or anything, and we can talk or not talk, but – I made those cookies you like. And you can write down the sangria recipe for me. No strings attached."

He hesitated.

"Please?"

"All right." He smirked slightly. "Like I can really resist a pretty girl inviting me home for cookies."


	4. Day 44 - The Morning After

**Day 44**

* * *

_And if you need somewhere to rest, _

_Somewhere to lay your head, _

_You know where to find me. _

_Stay with me._

* * *

When they arrived at Jane's home, the plate of cookies stood on the bar, along with a tall pitcher of water. Stacy was sitting on the couch. She was holding a pillow in her lap. For a second she seemed alarmed at their appearance, but that quickly melted into a warm smile.

"Hello, friends," she said in her sweet musical voice.

"Hello, Stacy," Owen said.

"We were just going to have a plate of cookies and do some talking," Jane said, pointing at the plate and the pitcher.

"That's nice," Stacy answered. She grabbed the remote and clicked the TV on. An infomercial for exercise equipment was playing. "I was just in the middle of a Grey's marathon. Don't mind me." She turned the volume up three notches and clicked over to the DVR, turning away from them.

"O…kay." Jane said. "Shall we take our cookies into the bedroom, Owen?"

"I suppose," he answered.

Jane closed the door behind them. "Did that seem weird to you?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered. "But then it's Stacy. She doesn't always conform to the generally accepted social contract."

"Fair enough," Jane responded. "Cookie?"

"All right." He accepted one and pulled her desk chair over to the bed where she was sitting.

"Did you want to talk about the baby?" she asked.

"No," he answered. "Not yet. I don't think I can. I'd like to get everything else straight in my head first."

"Okay," she nodded.

"If that's okay," he added quickly.

Jane nodded quickly, "It's actually fine with me. I mean, we have time, you know?"

He nodded in agreement. "If you need to hear that I am going to love and provide for our child, you can rest easy about that," he said gruffly. There was a slight catch in his voice.

"I guess that's all that really matters," she said. She sounded as though she really wanted to believe it, too.

"For now," he said. If you want to talk again later, we can. I promise."

"Okay," she said. "You know what, Owen?"

"What, Jane?"

"I'm so tired." Her voice was drooping.

He kissed her hand. "I'll go. You get some sleep."

She shook her head. "I don't want you to go yet. Stay, please?"

"Well…" he paused, "go get dressed, then, and I'll stay until you fall asleep."

Jane changed into her pajamas and climbed into bed. "Good night, Owen."

He leaned down and laid a light kiss on her forehead. "Good night, Jane."

He pushed the desk chair back where it belonged and removed his suit jacket, laying it over the arm of the purple upholstered chair in the corner opposite her bed. Opening the door very slowly and quietly he slipped out to use the bathroom. And bumped into-

"Owen!"

"_Kent_! What in the hell are you doing here?"

"I - could ask you the same."

"I'm spending the evening with my - with Jane, obviously. And now we're back to you."

"Well, I was using the bathroom," Grayson answered, nodding.

"Well, you might want to go back in. You forgot your shirt. And your… shorts."

"Um…right, thanks." Grayson ducked back into the bathroom. Owen waited two minutes but Grayson did not exit. He needed to use the toilet, so he crept around the couch, where Stacy was still watching TV – the infomercial was on again - and went in to use the guest bathroom.

When he walked back toward Jane's room, _Grey's Anatomy_ was back on the television, though the room was darkened. Stacy waved sweetly at him from under her Snuggie and he waved back at her. Grayson was nowhere to be seen. Confused and more than a little irritated, Owen grabbed a blanket out of the guest closet and crept back into Jane's room. He sank into the purple armchair, and settled in for a long night. He was tired, but he certainly wasn't leaving now.

* * *

**Day 44**

It was still dark when he woke. Jane was still asleep. He decided to leave before she could wake and ask why he had stayed the whole night.

"No need for her to think _I'm_ the stalker," he muttered under his breath. He threw his jacket over his arm. Not the most restful night, but he felt a little better than he had yesterday or the day before.

"What's that, Owen?" she mumbled under the covers.

"Nothing," he said and kissed her forehead again. "Go back to sleep. You've got an hour before your alarm goes off."

"Okay," she mumbled again and snuggled down into the covers.

Stacy was still on the couch under the Snuggie. The television was off, now, and the only light was the sun just beginning to creep into the windows. He tapped her on the shoulder. "Hey, Stacy."

"Hmmm?" Stacy stretched out her arms. She opened her eyes and nearly jumped out of her skin. "Oh my God! Owen?"

"Hi." He shaped his lips into a half-smile. "Good morning, Stacy." He cocked his head to one side questioningly.

"Good – um, morning – what time is it?" she asked.

"It's 5 o'clock in the morning. Do you know why Grayson Kent was here last night?"

"Who…?" she asked.

"Grayson. _Kent_." he enunciated.

"Oh – um, no he wasn't. Grayson never comes here at night," she smiled. "Going back to sleep, now. Good morning, Owen."

* * *

Walking into work, Jane was trying to smooth her bangs and unmuddle her thoughts. She felt happy. Happier than she had in 44 days. The fact that she'd be running into Grayson (and possibly be plunging right back into uncertainty) at some point was threatening to rear its head and put a damper on the day, but she was keeping that at bay so far. For now she was concentrating on trying to work things out. Moving forward to something positive, whatever that might be. She greeted Teri cheerfully.

"Good morning, boss," Teri said. "I have – what's up with you?" She narrowed her eyes. "Did you have _sex_ last night?"

"_No_, I did _not_." She scowled. "Can a girl not be cheerful without her assistant leaping to dirty conclusions, please?" She swept her hair back past her shoulders. "For your _information_, I had a nice dinner with Owen."

"And then he spent the night?" Teri asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"No," Jane nearly squeaked. "Well," she rolled her eyes and smiled. "Okay," she giggled, he voice dropping into conspiratorial tones, "actually, he _did_."

"Ha!"

"But we did not," she lowered her voice further to a hiss, "_have sex_, Teri!" She smiled. "We just talked. It was _nice_."

"I'm sure it was," Teri grinned.

"Seriously."

"I believe you," Teri grinned. "Oh, and Grayson's in your office."

"Great."

Teri smiled.

Grayson was already seated across her desk, in Owen's usual place, with the details of their case spread out in front of him."Good morning, Jane. How are you feeling today?"

"Better, thanks." She smiled winningly at him. "Have you made any progress?"

"Well, I went down and talked to Peterson last night-"

There was a knock on Jane's door. Grayson frowned and glanced at the door with obvious irritation. "Well, that didn't take long."

Owen poked his head in. "Hey, sorry to interrupt, Jane. Kent, Kim Kaswell would like you to come and bring her up to speed on the Peterson case. She's taking over as lead."

"I-what? But we were doing fine." Grayson's usually calm demeanor was cracking.

"Oh, yeah, absolutely. You're doing great. Kim wants to work with you on it. She has some idea for direction. She has some other things she wants Jane to take care of."

"I see," Grayson frowned harder.

"Don't shoot the messenger," Owen smiled meaningfully at Grayson.

"Sure. No problem." He gathered up his papers. "See you later, Jane."

When Grayson was gone, Owen turned to leave, too.

Jane stopped him. "I think I deserve an explanation for that."

"Not a big deal, Jane. I think Kim honestly just wanted to be more hands on with this case."

"And the fact that you had to bring the news yourself?"

He pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully. "Okay. Fair. I may be trying to give the impression that I'm putting Grayson in his place."

"I told you I've already let him know I'm not interested. You don't need to do that for me, Owen."

"Whatever you've said isn't stopping him from hanging around, Jane."

"We work together, Owen. He's going to be around."

"Thats not exactly what I mean."pp

"Okay. Jane stood up and walked over to him. "What do you mean?"

He made a clicking sound with his tongue. "Well… it's going to sound really strange but when you fell asleep last night… Grayson was in your bathroom."

"Grayson. Was in my bathroom."

"Yes. The main bathroom by the living room."

"Are you sure, Owen?"

"See, I told you it would sound strange. Look, let's drop it for now. Forget I said it, okay? At least until I figure out what is going on."

"Okay, let's drop it. But, please, Owen, please don't mark your territory around my cases."

He sighed. "Seriously, Kim wanted this case."

"I believe you."

"Yeah, sure. Thanks." He turned to go again.

"Owen?"

"Yes, Jane?"

"Don't tell anybody about the baby yet, please. They say it's bad luck during the first trimester, and… I don't really know what to tell people about us, yet. I don't want people feeling sorry for me."

"Jane?" He gave her a stern frown.

"Yes, Owen?"

"I promise I won't tell anybody unless you want me to. But I also promise that nobody will feel sorry for you as long as I am around."

She smiled a bit. "Thanks, Owen."


	5. Day 52 - Lunch With Elaine

_**Day 52**_

* * *

_Will the eagle fly if the sky's untrue?_

_Do the faithful sigh because they are so few?_

_Remember when I cried, remember when you knew?_

_Remember the look in your eyes? I know I do._

* * *

The next week passed uneventfully. If you hadn't known any differently – and most people hadn't – you would have thought things were exactly the way they were before the quiet dinner in the darkened restaurant. Owen still came and went out of Jane's office as much as he had been doing previously. Jane and Grayson continued to smile at one another, with Grayson still watching while he thought no one saw. To the unobservant viewer, nothing had changed.

Teri was no unobservant viewer.

She had been Jane's assistant for a long time now, and she knew what too look for. What had changed? Seemingly everything, and nothing was adding up.

For starters, there had been the day that Jane and Owen had gone to the doctor - together. Big red flag with rather obvious connotations but Teri was keeping that juicy information under her hat for now. That same day Jane had left early, obviously distraught.

Returned the next day happy, after a supposedly sexless dinner with the big bad fiancé.

But more strange were the changes in Jane's would-be beaus. Owen had returned early the next morning - fresh clothes, fresh shower, but eyes red-rimmed and slower response times in conversation, apparently exhausted. If it was true that Jane hadn't kept him up all night, something else - or someone? - had. But he had been home. On the same day, Grayson was just the opposite: he definitely hadn't been home. His suit had been recently pressed but it was the same one he wore yesterday. He looked well-rested but slightly distracted. He frowned more than usual, as though disgusted with something - himself, perhaps?

An interesting thought occurred to Teri - could her boss be burning both ends of that particular candle? She snorted in amusement at the idea. It wouldn't be like Jane to be that blatantly immoral, but then again, neither was it like her to kiss another man on her wedding day.

If nothing else, Teri liked the idea enough to jot it down for her next self-published erotica.

"Ahem."

Teri looked up sharply. "Elaine!" It was Jane 's mother, standing at Teri's desk, dressed to the hilt in lavender and looking angry. "Elaine, is Jane expecting you?"

"Jane is not taking my phone calls, as you are aware, Teri. I have left messages but she hasn't called me back since the day after the wedding fiasco. Is she in?"

"Well, she is here," Teri nodded measuredly, "but I think she was about to go for lunch."

"Perfect. I'm just in time, then. Now, Teri, on my way over here to your desk I caught a pair of familiar eyes on me. Was that who I think it was in the corner office?"

"Yes. Owen works here now." Teri nodded.

"Well, that's a bit odd, isn't it? I thought he was a judge. Not to mention, from what Jane said, I assumed he was deathly ill to postpone the wedding 'indefinitely.'"

Teri pressed her lips together., "I guess he got better."

Just then, Jane walked out of her office. "Mom! What are you doing here?"

Elaine smiled, "Great to see you, too, honey. I was worried sick about my girl, and I popped in town to see if you and Owen would take me to lunch."

"Oh! Oh, well, that's great, Mom, but why don't we just have lunch together, just the two of us? I mean, It's been so long…"

"Well, we certainly could, honey, but why would we? Your fiancé is only an office and a half away. I caught him looking at me when I popped off the elevator. What a pleasant surprise to see him here! I'm sure he'd love to join us."

A deep voice rumbled in response, "Well, of course I would, but if Jane wants to have quiet time with her mother, who am I to get in the way?" Owen had joined them at Teri's desk. "I saw you coming in. Nice to see you again, Elaine." He came beside her and offered her a friendly hug.

"Oh, come on-" Elaine pulled him teasingly by the arm. "I'm hungry and you're paying. I still haven't caught up with you two since the wedding that wasn't. I want to see how things are."

"Well, I would be honored to take you two beautiful women to lunch, but only if it's all right with Jane."

Jane studied his face a moment, "Are you sure you don't mind, Owen?"

He released himself from Elaine's grip and offered Jane the crook of his arm, "My pleasure."

He took them to an upscale casual restaurant only a few blocks away. Jane ordered a huge Caesar salad, he ordered a stuffed pork chop and potatoes with a Coke, and Elaine ordered a grilled chicken sandwich and a glass of wine.

Elaine inquired politely about Owen's health, Jane's work schedule, and any interesting office gossip. She exclaimed at their good fortune at being able to work together and clucked at Owen's poor meal choices for his health.

Finally, there was a lull in conversation and Jane pushed her plate away. "Mom, we haven't told anyone else this yet-"

Owen's eyebrows went up in alarm.

"-but I am pregnant."

Elaine's fork clattered to her plate. "Really?" She looked at Owen for confirmation.

He nodded, "Really." He smiled weakly and raised his soda glass to her. "Congratulations."

She clinked her wineglass to him. "And to you, Dad."

He took a slug out of his glass, "Should have ordered a whiskey."

Jane chuckled and sipped at her water, "Well, I appreciate the solidarity." She winced. "On that note, I need to use the restroom. Again." She politely excused herself.

Elaine watched her daughter leaving, then turned back to Owen with a smile. As soon as Jane was out of earshot, she dropped the smile and ambushed him. "Okay, spill."

"Excuse me?"

"Jane thinks everyone with an IQ less than 140 is stupid. But I am not stupid."

Owen chewed his food intently. "How do you mean? Jane doesn't think you're stupid."

Elaine rolled her eyes. "Two months ago, Jane was showing signs of getting cold feet. She is late to the wedding, and that pretty boy from the office goes to find her. You follow him five minutes later and have a," she drew air quotes, "heart attack. Now suddenly there's no wedding." She cocked her head and looked at him. "I'm not stupid. Something happened back there."

"Okay." He drew a deep breath. "So you're not stupid."

"So what happened?"

He tapped his fork against his plate. "That's really Jane's place to-"

She shook her head, cutting him off. "Jane won't tell me and I'm not going to ask her."

"I still can't. I'm sorry, Elaine. You know I really like you and I want you and Jane to get along, but I have to honor Jane's privacy."

"All right, then how about this. I'm just going to guess."

Owen said nothing.

"Pretty boy goes back to find Jane in a mental and emotional pickle and you go back to find Jane crying on pretty boy's shoulder. Something like that?"

Owen cleared his throat. "Not quite."

"Not.. not canoodling with pretty boy?" she look genuinely surprised.

Owen said nothing.

"Whew… "Elaine took a swig out of her goblet. "That had to be rough. I wouldn't have thought he had it in him. And yet here _you_ are."

He raised his hands in surrender. "Here I am, Elaine."

"So is this whole lunch just a show for my sake? Are you two - are you done?"

"No, no, nothing like that, Elaine. I mean," he paused pensively, "I actually love your daughter, and she says she loves me, too. Says, it was… all 'in the moment.' That she did care for him, but…" he bit his lip really hard. "She won't actually say she doesn't love him, just that she's turned down his multiple offers and she wants us to stay together."

"Wow." She sipped at her goblet again. "And you two are going to raise a baby?"

"I guess. I mean, I want that, of course, but I don't know if that's really what Jane wants or if she's just trying to absolve herself of guilt or if she's just trying to keep us together for the baby or... I just don't know. And Kent is still hanging around like there's a queue and he's trying to hold his place. I feel like he's waiting for me to slip up so he can swoop in and fix everything."

"Well…" Elaine raised her glass to Owen. "Good luck figuring all that out. What's your big plan?"

He shook his head. "No big plan. I've never been this confused in my entire life. What my brain says to do is walk away. She obviously cares for Kent, why should I get in the way of that? There's never been anyone else for me, why should I want any less in return?"

"A fair question. What does your heart say to do?"

Owen speared a potato with his fork. "Kick his ass." He almost smiled.

Elaine pointed her index finger at him, "I like that plan."

He chuckled. "You would."

"Well, that may not be a great idea, but - _Hello_, Janey. Took you long enough."

"Thanks for pointing that out, Mother. What were you two talking about?"

"Oh, Owen here was just telling me what a hormonal mess you've been since you found out. Poor darling. I told him what you really need is a couple of new frocks and a spa day for two. Of course he gladly offered to pay for it." She smiled wickedly.

"Mother! That is so presumptuous! And - for your information - I can pay for my own spa days!"

Owen chuckled deeply, "Elaine, I like the way your mind works. And I'd gladly pay for a spa day every weekend if it would help my fiancée be a bit more… relaxed."

"Well, technically you aren't engaged anymore," Elaine said pointedly. She glanced at Jane's hand. "No ring. I'm sure Janey appreciates the sentiment anyway."

"Oooh," Owen frowned. "She does have a point."

"Well, maybe," Jane said. "But, FYI, Owen, just to point this out," she flipped her hair, "it's _not_ my turn to propose. I did it last time." She narrowed her eyes then. "What have you two _really_ been talking about?"

"Nothing," they both answered quickly.

"By the by," Jane's mother asked breezily, "What_ is_ the proper term for a woman who's carrying your child but you aren't currently married or engaged to?"

"Um…_ girlfriend_?" Jane asked witheringly.

"No, that's not it," she said thoughtfully. "Hmmm… what is that word?"

"Baby-mama," Owen said gravely. He speared another potato, popped it into his mouth, and smiled.

Jane nearly spit out her water. "WHAT?!"

"That's the one," Elaine said, grinning like a monkey. "That's how you should be introducing her, Owen."

"That… is _so _not _funny_," Jane growled.

"So, just to clarify, that is_ not_ how I should introduce you at formal functions?" Owen chuckled.

Jane huffed. "Obviously you two are getting along a bit too well. As it happens, I have to go back to work."

"Oh, don't be cross, Janey. We're just ribbing you. It's stress relief. I've been so nervous that you haven't called since the wedding was called off. Owen and I had a nice chat, and I'm very glad things are going well for you two. I really hope it continues that way. You have a great man in this one. If he wasn't so stuck on you I know a few others who might be interested." She winked.

Jane flared her nostrils. "Thank you, Mom. I think."

Owen stood up. "Jane's right, though, we do need to get back to work. Elaine," he bowed slightly. "A pleasure as always. Call me anytime."

"I think I just might," she smiled. "The spa day for two was intended for Jane and me, of course."

He smiled. "Of course it was. Can I drop you off somewhere?"

"No, thanks, I'm taking a cab."

"All right, we'll see you later, then."

Jane hugged her mother and they departed in peace.


	6. Day 57 - Driving Mr Grayson

**Day 57**

* * *

_Lonely rivers flow to the sea, to the open arms of the sea._

_Time goes by so slowly, and time can do so much. Are you still mine?_

* * *

It was a rather boring series of random events that led Grayson Kent to be riding along to question a potential witness in Owen French's vehicle. If you lined up every single human in the 11-story building where Grayson worked, Owen would have been last in line for people he would like ride along with. But life was funny, and flat tires were merciless.

They drove along in relative silence at first, but it was a very long drive.

"How are things going with Kim and the Peterson appeal?" Owen asked to try and fill the oppressive silence.

"Fine. Jane and I could have handled it." Grayson wasn't interested in keeping the peace.

"Yeah. No doubt. Jane's an incredibly gifted attorney."

Long pause.

"Maybe next time you shouldn't take work out of her hands, if you think she's so talented," Grayson said quietly.

Another long pause.

"Maybe next time you shouldn't underestimate her for four years before someone else comes along to point her out," Owen retorted.

"Wh-what?" Grayson sputtered.

"Why don't you just admit that you didn't think Jane was attractive until you saw her with another man? You worked with her for years and never gave her a second thought, then -bam- she's got a boyfriend and suddenly she's hot."

The highway roared underneath them, but the space between those two men inside the car was near-silent.

Finally, "You do realize she dated before you, Owen. You're not, like the first guy she's ever been out with, or anything."

Apparently Owen really didn't like having his argument rationalized. His face turned a darker shade of red. "Maybe not, but you and I saw a lot of each other when she and I were dating. You didn't see her other boyfriends that much. You saw us together. You saw her in that context and she looked good. That's all I'm saying. "

Grayson bit his lip hard. "You know, you can be a real dick, Owen. I don't even know why I'm talking to you about this, but the fact is I'm sick of working in between you two and feeling like the bad guy. Yes, I did, I suddenly saw her differently, and yes, it was while you two were dating, but it had nothing to do with you. If anything, the fact that she would go out with an arrogant douchebag like you would be a turnoff."

"Please, Grayson. Tell me how you really feel about me."

"See, the truth is, it was actually Stacy who changed everything. She - she said Deb wasn't dead. She said - she said Jane was Deb." He stopped talking then, realizing how it sounded out loud.

Owen coughed to hold back a biting laugh, somewhat unsuccessfully. "She said Jane was your deceased girlfriend? That's convincing."

Grayson shook his head. She denied it afterwards. She says it's not what she meant - but it is what she said. And I - God, I wanted that to be true so bad. I started looking into reincarnation. I bought books about spirits and past lives. And I started researching Jane, too. And you know what I found out?"

Owen nodded, "Sure, that Jane was shot the same day your girlfriend died."

"Yeah. You knew about that, huh? Not just the same day, Owen. I'm talking within half an hour of each other. And there were these idiosyncrasies about Jane. I'd introduce her to an old friend, and she'd hug them like she knew them her whole life life. Or, when the firm represented Debs parents in their divorce, Jane cried."

Owen chuckled, "That just sounds like Jane."

"Yeah, I know that now. But if Jane was Deb, it would... it'd have explained so much. Eventually I disproved it, but then, like you said, she looked completely differently to me after that."

"Okay, so how did you disprove it?"

"Really? I thought you'd be laughing your ass off by now."

"Do you have a better topic of conversation for us?"

"All right. I'll bite. There was a song."

"A _song_?" Owen asked incredulously.

"Yes, a song. After we saw _Ghost_ together - Deb loved that movie; she talked about it for weeks - every time she heard "Unchained Melody" she'd just burst right into tears. I thought, even if there was just, maybe a piece of Deb in her, and maybe she didn't even know - don't laugh, dude - that would definitely still affect her."

Owen was staring hard at the road, not even glancing over at Grayson as the story unfolded.

"So, at dinner one night, after a big win for Jane and me, I played the song for her and she blew it off. Totally blew it off. She made fun of the lyrics and trivialized the movie. Deb would never have laughed at _Ghost_, never."

"I see," Owen said. Goosebumps crawled up Owen's arms and snaked down his back. He knew exactly was Grayson was talking about, but he remembered that meal very differently.

Owen had arrived late to the dinner, while Kent had been getting a pair of drinks from the bartender. Jane was surprised to see him - swore she hadn't texted him - and she was holding back tears.

_"Please don't tell anybody what sap I am."_

_"It'll be our secret," he had assured her, squeezing her hands, heart swelling protectively."I promise."_

"And after that, you didn't question it anymore?" Owen asked.

"Yeah, I mean obviously it was stupid to begin with. Who even thinks about stuff like that, right? But I couldn't un-see Jane. I really saw her now. How sweet and sharp and caring she was, you know? How being around her made me feel better, you know?"

"Yeah. I know."

Owen didn't say anything more. He was processing intensely. Grayson had thought Jane was his late girlfriend. Then had dismissed the thought because Jane didn't cry at a song.

But she _had_ cried. And she hadn't wanted Kent to know.

_"It'll be our secret. I promise."_

Was he just buying into Kent's grief?

_"I died. And when I came back, I was a totally different person."_

_"I loved Grayson, but he didn't see me."_

"Hey, looks like our time is coming to an end, Owen. Traffic's finally moving. Hey, Owen, you still with me?"

"Yeah, sorry. Just thinking. How it's hard to be a lawyer and still be a human."

"Ha ha."

"At the end of the day Kent, I'm always going to be a better lawyer than you are."

"Gee, thanks, Owen."

"No, hear me out. You're right. I can be a dick. I'm good at being right. I need to be right. But you, you're always going to be better at people, and I respect that. In our job, we are literally paid to prove with excruciating detail how right we are. And I'm better at that. But that's not going to make me a good father or a good husband."

"So your closing argument is that I'd be a better father than you would?"

Owen chuckled, "Jury's still out on that one, Kent."

"Well let's hope you're right about the father thing."

Which, much later Owen would think was a strange thing to say - he hadn't mentioned the baby, and he didn't think Jane had mentioned it to Grayson yet, either. But at the moment he was too preoccupied.

* * *

"Olivia - Olivia I'm sorry for calling the house. Your cell number wasn't working."

"It's one o'clock in the morning, Owen. It's on silent. Is everything ok?"

"Can I ask you something, Olivia?"

"Oh my God, Owen, are you drunk?"

"Maybe - maybe just a little bit. I just have a quick little question and then you can go back to bed."

"Your nephew has school in the morning, Owen. Make it quick."

"Do you believe in soulmates?"

"Oh my God, Owen, are you serious? What is she doing to you? Jane did something, didn't she?"

"Just answer the question. Do you think that people can be destined for each other? Like, even after death?"

"Owen, you know what I believe. I am a _practicing Catholic," _she said emphatically_, "_I believe in free will. None of that fate crap."

"So no soul mates?"

"No destiny, just choices. Soul mates, yes, but that's just a regular part of marriage. You get married, you become soul mates. That's it. You pick, you choose."

"That's kind of dull, Olivia."

"That's theology, Owen. Nobody said it was supposed to be fun. You asked the question."

"Asked and answered. But you and Brian divorced. So, I guess the soul mates thing was pretty worthless, huh?"

"Our marriage was annulled, Owen. We never had it right to begin with. We were not... soul mates. Ever."

"So you still believe in it? You think you and Alan-?"

"Alan and I are just getting started. We'll see. It might be a good thing. Maybe you and Jane just moved too fast."

"No, listen, I just, it's not about me and Jane. I was just wondering what you thought about the concept."

"At one in the morning? Okay, Owen, so does Jane believe in soul mates?"

"Now that's a good question, Olivia."

"Go ask her. I want to go back to bed."

"All right. Sorry, Olivia."

"We'll talk tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. Sorry, Olivia. Night."

"Love you, Owen."

"You too, Olivia."


	7. Day 63 - Pretty Vegas

**Day 59**

* * *

_When I'm losing my control, the city spins around, _

_you're the only one who knows, you slow it down._

* * *

Dear Jane,

_I'm leaving. I didn't want to run off without telling you, so this is your notice. I think I understand – as much as a man can understand a woman – about you and Grayson. Doesn't mean I'm giving up. But I'm selfish enough to want to have you all to myself, and if I don't give you and Grayson a chance to be something, I feel like I never really will. So please, do whatever you have to do while I'm gone. I swear to God when I come back I won't ask any questions, and whatever you tell or don't tell me won't count as a lie._

_Parker's coming in town for a few weeks to get up to speed so he can help me manage while Kim's on leave. It's really vital that everything goes smoothly. Rather than pay three partners until she takes off, I offered to do a little unpaid soul searching. I think Parker understood a little too well. I'll be back when she's due, or if the baby comes early I'll rush back. I'm not taking my phone but if you need me for something I'll find my way back, trust me._

_Still yours,_

_Owen_

When she looked up from the handwritten note, he was standing in her office, glass doors closed behind him, watching her read.

"Oh! I thought-"

"I wasn't going to leave without really saying goodbye," he said softly. "Just didn't trust myself to say all the words out loud."

"You're really not taking your phone?" she asked.

"I'm taking a phone, but I'm not giving you the number. I don't want to wait for you to call. Parker has the number, so if you really need me just tell him to ask me to call you."

"I don't understand why you're doing this."

"Yes, you do," he answered hoarsely. "See – see if you can make it work with Grayson."

"But, Owen, I don't want to do that. If I wanted to, I could have already done that. I told you that," her brow was furrowed in anger and her voice was taught.

"I know," he answered. "But I'm always around now, whether physically or mentally, so you have to weigh your feelings for him against your feelings for me. I'm giving you a chance to think about it without worrying about me. I'm going to go sort out my life – you stay here and sort yours out."

"Owen-"

"I can't tell you what to do or how to feel, Jane, I'm not trying to. I'm doing this for myself. Right now I just feel like I'm keeping you from him, and I feel like shit about it. I can barely sleep. I can't concentrate on work unless I'm in the room with you, I can't – I can't live like this for the rest of my life. So give me a break, okay? I'll be back, and if you want me when I come back, I'm all yours. But you have to decide that on your own, not while I'm watching over your shoulder."

She said nothing, but she looked genuinely hurt. She looked as bad as she had when he walked back to find her on their wedding day.

"Come here," he said gruffly.

She stood up from her desk and walked over to him. "I'm sorry," he said. "I don't mean to be such a jerk." She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head against his chest. He crushed her to him. They stood like that a few moments. Then she let go and he released her reluctantly.

He looked down at her, studying her for a moment. He cupped her face in both of his hands and brushed his lips against hers slowly, achingly aware that it had been two months since their last proper kiss. She responded in kind, moving instinctively to deepen the kiss, but he held her face steady in his hands and released her. "Goodbye, Jane," he said.

* * *

On his way out, he slipped a small piece of paper and a folded up bill to Teri. He crooked his finger at her and she leaned close. She loved the conspiracy.

"Tomorrow," he whispered, "there will be roses on that desk. If and when they wilt or she takes them home, text me. Keep me posted, and there will be another one of these when I get back."

"Are you leaving?"

"I'll be back in a few weeks."

Even folded up that small, Teri knew what a hundred dollar bill looked like. She grinned. "Not a problem. I've been paid less to text."

So much for staying out of her life while he was gone. But he had promised no one would feel sorry for her, and now he was leaving. No one could feel sorry for a woman with a bouquet of flowers on her desk. At least he hoped that was how it worked.

* * *

Jane sat down at her desk dejectedly. She pulled a post-it out of her desk drawer and jotted down a quick to-do list for the weekend.

_Mani-pedi_

_Shapewear sale at Nordstorm's_

_Flirt with Grayson?_

It wasn't hard to come up with an excuse to go to Grayson's office. If she smiled at him through the door, she knew he would invite her in. She wondered, absently, if he knew that Owen was gone and if he did, if he knew why. She did it, then, she walked by and smiled at him, and he waved her in.

"Hey, great news," he said brightly, "Kim and I nailed the Peterson case."

"That's fantastic, Grayson. I heard you were going to be in court today, and I wanted to see how it had gone."

"Kim nailed it. She was fantastic. It was really all her. Oh – you could have done just as well, though."

"Oh, I don't care about that, Grayson, honestly. Kim hasn't taken a case from me in a long time – being pregnant _and_ a partner seems to agree with her."

"Yeah," he chuckled. "That's true. She's been downright pleasant. Except that part where she recruited a partner from outside instead of promoting one of us, but hey, that's Kim."

"Oh, wow, I never even thought of that," Jane admitted.

"Which is pretty funny, since you always wanted to be a partner. As much as you do for this firm, you deserve to be a partner. I guess the fact that it was Owen distracted you from the fact that it wasn't you," he smirked.

"I guess I've just been preoccupied," she admitted. "Did you hear Parker is coming back in to help manage while she's on leave?"

"Yeah," he said, "I heard Owen is out of town, too. Guess that was too much ego for one office."

She tried to chuckle but she didn't find it that funny. True, possibly, but not funny. At least not coming from Grayson.

"I'm sorry," Grayson said, sensing her hesitation. "Can we start over?"

"That would be nice," Jane said. "I was actually just wondering if you were going out to celebrate your victory."

"Really? We haven't done that in a while."

"Really, Grayson. So?"

"I guess I am now." He smiled at her. "Where shall we go?"

* * *

**Day 63**

Days 61 through 63 Owen spent in Las Vegas. Vegas was supposed to be the place to go for a man with a broken heart. He wore a dark suit and a dark jacket with a red power tie – he thought maybe Jane had mentioned that blue ties were more in fashion today – but he didn't care, he wanted red. Glancing at himself in the mirror, he knew it was right; he looked the part.

He withdrew enough cash to look like a high roller, not a tourist, and then locked his real credit cards into his suitcase. He was down the first day, then caught up at the tables on day 62. He was making friends as easily as he used to. He told a lot of exaggerated stories about sailing and judging and made people laugh, even when they lost to him. He bought drinks for himself and those around him. People were drawn to his energy.

On day 63 he was joined by a cute blonde in her late twenties with blue eyes and nice ankles. She didn't seem to want to place many bets of her own, just wanted to stand in his shadow and reflect him, and that felt good. He felt more like a man than he had in two months, stronger than he had since the first heart attack.

When he decided he was going to take a late lunch break, she followed him. Standing in line to eat with him, she tugged on his tie, pulling his face down to her level, grinning up at him and whispered something, not quite explicit, but definitely promising. He felt himself grow rigid and hot at her words and made a joke, something self-deprecating, the kind of joke that from a man in his position, just meant 'don't stop.'

She touched his arm and laughed encouragingly, a light, musical laugh, but when she did he saw how empty, endless and blue her eyes were. They were missing the warmth and the brownness and the sweet spirit that he loved. He dismissed himself suddenly, as quickly as he could without hurting her. He took her number on a napkin and did not promise to call.

He fled to his room, tossed the napkin in the hotel trashcan, stuffed everything in his large suitcase, and checked out without bothering to cash out. He hunted for his car in the vast parking garage – it took him an extra fifteen minutes of wandering around between seemingly-identical silver Civics because his brain wouldn't focus - then floored it across the desert. It took only one rushed hour to get from that lunch line to the open highway. He never bothered eating lunch at all that day; he just drove.

He checked into a sleazy motel in Palmdale, not sure where he really wanted to go next. He ordered pizza, watched a stupid old comedy and fell asleep with the TV still on. That night, the girl was there in his dreams again, crystal blue eyes, loose blonde hair, tugging at his tie, pulling his face down to hers. But then the fever broke. Blue eyes were replaced with warm brown ones and in his dream it was Jane who was loosening his tie and throwing it in the trashcan on top of a crushed napkin, unbuttoning his steel grey shirt, tracing the outline of his scar with her mouth, with her tongue.

He woke at four-thirty the next morning from a deep, violent sleep. He stripped the bed in disgust and balled up the sheets, piling them into the corner to spare the motel staff from having to deal with it.

Later, over black coffee, he pondered where to go. He had a friend with a beach house in Dana Point. Far enough south that he wouldn't feel the need to run home. A quick phone call and only a few awkward questions later, he had the address, the location of the key, and the welcome to stay for as long as he liked.

At least by the ocean he would be able to breathe again.


	8. Day 64 - Pink With Grayson

**Day 64**

* * *

_Right from the start, you were a thief, you stole my heart, and I, your willing victim._

_I let you see the parts of me that weren't all that pretty, and with every touch you fixed them._

* * *

The first dinner with Grayson had been slightly awkward, as they learned what topics of conversation to stay away from. No Owen, not too much Kim, and even talking about Stacy made things feel weird. So at first, they stuck with pop culture. That was easier than it used to be – the first two years of being Jane, talking to Grayson without giving away the fact that she was really Deb inside was almost impossible. She had felt then like tiny Deb trapped and screaming inside the crushing, soundproof padded room that was Jane's life.

Enough time had passed now that she could almost fake it without thinking too hard. She had new artists she liked, new movies she loved, and she even knew things about Jane's childhood that she could throw in now and then. She felt comfortable in her skin. Close to it, anyway.

But, as fun as those easy conversations were, they were short-lived and unsatisfying.

Then they moved into current affairs and current cases. Here they were able to spark. They made fun of Kim's emotional outbursts over the past few months and discussed case law at length. This felt differently than it ever had before. She had always been looking admiringly up at Grayson before, as though he were something better than her, something to aspire to. Now that he was interested in her as a woman, she felt very differently. She felt confidence and poise, the same things she radiated in the courtroom, which was her stage, but now she felt them around Grayson, too. That was good, very good.

Then Grayson had invited her to a Pink concert on Day 64. Jane wasn't a huge Pink fan, but on the other hand, she hadn't been to a good pop concert in a year or so. Pop music wasn't exactly Owen's forte. So she and Grayson went – and clearly Grayson liked Pink even less than she did. But they still had a lot of fun, even singing along obnoxiously to the songs that neither of them really knew. At the end of the night, Grayson walked her to the door of her house. She did not invite him in.

"I had a really good time tonight, Jane," he said warmly, holding her by the hand. "Even when that bouncer accidentally spit on me."

"Me, too, Grayson," she returned the warmth of his smile. "_Especially_ when the bouncer spit on you."

"We should do it again, soon," he continued.

"Okay, let's. I hear Justin Bieber's coming in town," she smiled evilly.

"Oh, that's funny, Jane. Very funny." He chuckled and shook his head. "You always know how to make me laugh." He was leading her close to him, very gently by the hand. He ducked down to kiss her and she closed her eyes. It was a very soft kiss at first, but he then wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in for more. His lean body felt very different against hers than Owen's did. That was only the second time she had thought about Owen all night.

Her phone rang, only once, not even long enough to register a caller ID, but it was still enough to break the spell. She backed off, politely, loosened herself from his grip, smiled at him. "Good night, Grayson."

* * *

"When were you planning to tell me that this is what was going on?"

Jane woke rather suddenly to the sounds of shouting outside her bedroom.

"If you were listening to what I said at ALL you would have realized!"

"I was listening! I knew that was the plan but I didn't realize the plan was for RIGHT NOW!"

Jane sat bolt upright. It was Stacy and a man – and she thought almost definitely that the man was Grayson.

She popped her head out the bedroom door. Grayson was standing just inside the front door in tight-fitting jeans and a polo shirt, Stacy was in her robe. They both stopped shouting when they saw her.

"You guys realize it's four am on a Sunday morning, don't you?" she asked with a yawn. "...what's going on?"

"Nothing," said Grayson. He left immediately and slammed the door, hard.

"_Nothing_ is right," Stacy answered. "Good night, Jane."

Jane lay in bed until the sun was well up, wondering what she had done wrong.

* * *

Stacy clutched her pillow tight, sobbing into the silk case. She was trying so hard not to be loud, hoping Jane would go back to sleep. More than that, though, she was hoping that Jane would _not_ go back to sleep, that she would instead pound on the door and ask her what was wrong. She really wanted to talk about it. She really, really wanted to talk about it.

But the knock never came.

* * *

"So, I don't know what exactly you and Grayson were fighting about, and I kind of got the impression that you didn't want to talk about it?" Jane eyed her friend questioningly. "But I was wondering if it would be appropriate to invite him over for a game night, just the three of us?"

"A game night," Stacy smiled. "I like that idea. Pictionary, Trivial Pursuit, Mad Gab, that kind of thing?"

"Yes! And I will make my world-famous avocado dip, and you can pick up some chips and salsa from La Fiesta."

"Oh, I love that idea. Do you think he'll come?"

"I'm sure," Jane responded, "that if I ask _very sweetly_, he will come. I don't like it when my best friends fight."

Stacy wasn't so sure.

* * *

The first night at the beach, night 64, Owen bought a tall bottle of whiskey and drank half of it. He almost called his sister Olivia twice, and actually dialed Jane's number once but only to hang up before it could really ring. He burnt his hand pretty badly building a fire on the beach, but then he got it roaring and toasted s'mores and hot dogs for himself and felt a bit like a human again.

The wind was wild and cold. He pulled up a beach chair and sat in front of the fire, watching the flames without seeing anything at all. He felt everything he could possibly feel and let it all burn.

The next day, he rented fishing tackle and stayed out all night fishing off a long pier. He caught nothing except a little fresh air. He went home at six am, poured the rest of the whiskey bottle down the kitchen sink and slept in until two in the afternoon. He only thought about Jane kissing Grayson three times – the entire time when he was fishing, the entire time when he was falling asleep, and the entire time when he woke up. But thinking about it a lot was actually freeing, especially while sober. He turned it over and over in his head until it was boring. Just another fact about Jane – she had loved Grayson before she loved him. Hardly hurt anymore. She also snored sometimes. And she liked pop music. And she had a smile that outshone the sunset over the ocean. And a fierce determination to be on the side of justice. These were all facts about Jane, and if he loved her, he had to accept them all at face value.

He wasn't there yet, to accepting them all. They were like a fair hand just sitting out there in front of him. He just hadn't decided if he wanted to fold yet.

He went fishing again when the sun set, and that was when he met Luis.


	9. Day 66 - Owen Sails Again

**Day 65**

* * *

_I just want to drink til I'm not thirsty, I just want to sleep til I'm not tired_

_I just want to drive til I run out of highway, under the purple sky._

_Are the fields all painted up in red and blue?_

_Are you thinking of me the times I'm thinking of you?_

* * *

Rather than go to the public pier, on day 65 Owen decided to fish off of his friend's much smaller pier just down the beach from the house. He knew the odds of catching anything there were slim, but he was more interested in the solitude than in seafood. He dressed warmly and pulled the beach chair out on to the creaking wooden slats. He cast his line into the water, secured his rod, and promptly nodded off.

"Hello," a deep voice woke him. He looked up sharply. A Hispanic man in his late fifties was standing over him looking puzzled.

"Oh, hello. I wasn't expecting anyone. I didn't hear a car, either. Must have fallen asleep."

The man extended his hand and smiled warmly. "Luis Cotón. I keep the grounds and my brother's wife does the housekeeping while the owner's away." The man had a lyrical Spanish accent.

"Owen French," Owen shook the man's hand solidly. "I'm imposing on Fred's hospitality for a few weeks. Just me. Hopefully I won't make much work for your sister-in-law. Are you the man to ask where I can rent a boat?"

"A boat, Mr. French? What kind of boat?"

"Just Owen, please.," He smiled. "Oh, it doesn't matter. I just want to go out on the waves. I used to sail regularly but I haven't gone out in over a year. I'm kind of anxious to get out there."

"Have you sailed around Dana Point before?" The man asked cautiously.

"No, no I haven't. I'm from a bit farther north. I'm a good sailor, though, I've mastered a lot of different kinds of water. I'll catch on."

"Really?" the man looked skeptically amused, "You look more like a doctor than a sailor."

"I'm a lawyer, by trade," Owen admitted, "but I used to sail all the time. I was actually invited by a team to train for and compete in the Americas Cup, but I declined it."

"Interesting. Well, there's some rough sailing out there, and if it's been more than a year I wouldn't recommend going out by yourself. I have a proposition for you, though."

"All right, I'm listening."

"I take Mr. Vann's boats out about once a week just to keep them maintained. I'm taking one out tomorrow afternoon. If you want to come along, I'll put you to work. See if you still remember how to sail," he smiled winningly.

"Hey, I didn't even know Fred kept boats. That would be perfect. Thank you, please count me in."

"Can I pick you up?" Luis asked. "1:00 in the afternoon?"

"That sounds great."

* * *

**Day 66**

Jane set up a sturdy black card table in the middle of the living room and lined the bar with multi-colored tortilla chips, three different dips, and bowl of iced non-alcoholic sangria. She indulged in the mani-pedi, successfully crossing off all items from her to do list, then dressed up in a pink blouse, black frilly skirt, and a smart black mini-jacket. Time to wait for her friends to arrive.

3:00 came and they were not there yet, 3:10 and she began to be concerned.

3:15 they arrived, laughing, with a pink box. "We bought you a cake, Jane," Stacy laughed. "Sorry we're late, but we had to pick it up from the bakery."

Jane cracked the pink cardboard box and burst out laughing. The cake was iced in white and red, with beautiful black script letters that read, 'Sorry We're Late.'

"Oh my God, you guys are so silly. Done fighting then?"

"Oh, we weren't really fighting," Stacy answered. "Just a misunderstanding."

"A miscommunication," Grayson agreed.

"Great! Come in and get comfortable. She gestured to the loveseat and the chair. Shall I cut this very silly cake for us?"

"Yes, please," said Stacy.

"I also brought wine, if you'd like some, Jane," Grayson said with a smile.

"I'll pass on the wine – I intend to beat you both at Monopoly tonight – but I made a virgin sangria if you'd like to try it."

"Great," Grayson answered. "I'll put it in the fridge, then, if that's okay?"

"Of course – did you want any wine, Stacy?"

"No, that's all right. I'll try the sangria, too," she smiled. She sat down on the couch. Jane pursed her lips in annoyance. She had expected Stacy to choose the chair, as she usually did. Then she and Grayson could have sat on the couch together. Maybe Stacy could have observed them together and gave Jane advice as to whether it was working or not.

Instead, Grayson chose the chair, and Jane sat on the opposite end of the couch with Stacy in between them.

"Great," Jane smiled. "Let's play Monopoly."

They laid out the game. Grayson chose the little car, Jane the top hat, and Stacy the dog.

"I wonder what the dog is supposed to symbolize," Grayson pondered.

"Well, he's really the only cute piece," Stacy responded. "Couldn't we have played Twister instead?"

"Um, no," Jane answered. "Monopoly is a game that you can actually talk while playing. And it lasts a very long time."

"The longest ever game of monopoly lasted 70 days," Grayson said.

"Wow, I really don't have that kind of time," Stacy said.

"Aw, Stacy's just afraid she's going to lose," Grayson grinned.

* * *

In the meantime, Owen was in his element. He was physically exhausted; clearly, he had more work to do than he expected to get back in sailing shape, but he was enjoying every minute.

"Luis, thank you so much for taking me out here," he said when they finally had some downtime and Luis was quizzing him on knots. "You were right, it was good to go out together."

"No need to thank me, Owen. _De verdad_, I had my own reasons for inviting you. I could have directed you to any number of rental places."

"Reasons, eh? What would they be?"

"A few of my friends and I have a little team that sails. Sometimes we are short a member or two. I wanted to see if you could really sail or if you were just a tourist," he chuckled.

"Ah, and what's the verdict?"

"You'll do, Owen. You'll do. I'll have to introduce you to the other men and see if you get along."

"Do you race, is that what kind of team it is?" Owen was getting excited at the idea of doing something on the water again.

"No, it's something a bit different. You'll see." Luis grinned.

* * *

By 7:00 Jane had acquired all four railroads, Stacy was controlling the utilities and the pink towns, and Grayson was having a steady run of luck that was yielding him all the blue and all the purple towns. It was only a matter of time, now, before he wore them both down.

Jane was bored. Stacy had been bored before they started. Grayson was genuinely enjoying himself, but Jane could tell he wouldn't be for much longer. "Do you guys want to go out?" she asked suddenly.

"Out?" Grayson asked. "To eat? I'm not really that hungry."

"To have fun. I think there's a Karaoke night at Zesty's tonight, isn't there, Stace?"

"I'll check their website," Stacy said. She looked relieved. "I think you win, Grayson," she added with a grin.

Jane drove – Stacy rode in the front with her, again confounding Jane's seating arrangements. She was beginning to get a little irritated. Did Stacy not realize that she wanted to sit with Grayson? That she was trying to give him a chance? She was beginning to wonder if Stacy didn't want her to be too close to Grayson – maybe she was worried about her friend or maybe Owen had said something to her? But that didn't make any sense – Owen had made it very clear that he wanted Jane to give it a try.

* * *

A few hours later, Owen and Luis were relaxing on the deck with a can of lemonade each watching the sun set. They'd have to sail back in very soon, but Owen wasn't eager to do it.

"So tell me about the woman," Luis said evenly.

"What woman?"

"The one you're hiding from," Luis answered.

Owen scoffed, "I'm not hiding from any woman," he said.

Luis snorted, "Oh, sorry. I didn't realize lawyers take trips in the middle of October just for fun."

"I'm not hiding from a woman – just… giving her a chance to work out what she wants," he grumbled.

"Ah," said Luis. "Well, that's much better. Much more macho."

"Cheers," answered Owen, tipping his can of lemonade in Luis's direction.

* * *

Jane took the stage with a smile. She blew a kiss at Stacy and began to sing slowly, "You're just too good to be true – can't take my eyes off of you-"

She wondered where Grayson was. He had left for the bathroom before she had put her name in to sing, and he still hadn't come back yet. Stacy was sitting at the bar watching her friend and smiling.

"You'd be like heaven to touch – I want to hold you so much-"

There he was, coming out of the bathroom area. He sat down next to Stacy and she gestured to the stage. He grinned and waved a little wave at Jane. She blushed and smiled.

"-and I thank God I'm alive. You're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you," she grinned meaningfully at Grayson and winked at him. But he wasn't watching; he was talking to Stacy again.

She belted out the notes now in perfect pitch, "I love you, baby – and if it's quite all right, I need you baby, to warm the lonely nights-" If she had nothing else in the world, she could sing. She remembered being a teenager and singing out her heartache and rejection – woah, that was one of Jane's memories. Where had that come from? It must have been so visceral that it imprinted itself on her body, so she could feel it when she sang. That was kind of cute. She wondered if Britney, the girl who used to be Jane, could sing, and if she missed it if she couldn't, or if she just didn't want to anymore.

"Oh, pretty baby, don't let me down I pray, Oh pretty baby, now that I found you stay –" but they hadn't stayed. Stacy and Grayson had gotten up and were browsing through the karaoke book now. They weren't even looking at her anymore.

She finished the song, deflated. She laughed and smiled for the rest of the evening, but she felt hollow inside. She tried to tell herself that it was selfish to want them to pay attention to her song, but she'd picked it to sing to Grayson, and he hadn't cared or even noticed. She tried to be mature about it, but she just felt as though the whole evening had been stolen away from her.

* * *

"So this woman that you're not running away from," Luis badgered as they tied everything down for the night. "Beautiful?"

Owen sucked in a breath. "Love at first sight. Didn't even believe in such a thing before."

"But you don't want the same things, hmmm?"

Owen pressed his lips together and answered reluctantly, "Well, no, in the sense that I want her and she wants someone else."

"She left you?"

"Not exactly. She says she wants to stay."

"But…?"

"Oh, all right, sheesh, Luis. We were getting married and she was late to the ceremony, and I found her kissing this other man, all right?"

Luis was quiet for a while. "Sorry, Owen, I didn't know."

"She wants us to stay together, but I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"You don't love her anymore?"

"No, I do, I just… I don't know anymore. She humiliated me and that guy humiliated me. And then to be really stupid, I took a job at her firm – she's a lawyer, too - working over both of them. I can't seem to stay away from her, but neither can he, apparently."

"Ouch, man, why would you take a job there?"

"The firm isn't doing that well. It's really been suffering from poor leadership for a while. I had this stupid idea that if I couldn't be her husband, I could still provide for her by taking care of the company she worked for."

"Damn, Owen, that's romantic," Luis laughed. "Marry me, instead."

Owen chuckled, "If I can sail with you every day, I might just think about it."

"So, what, she and this other guy, they spend time together at work? They dating now? Doesn't seem like much of a guy if he'd kiss another man's woman on their wedding day."

Owen shrugged that off, "He's not a bad guy. Don't get me wrong, I can't stand the guy, we've rubbed each other wrong since day one. But he lost his girlfriend in a car accident a few years ago and I get the impression that he's been floundering since then."

Luis nodded. "And your girlfriend?"

"Like I said, she says she doesn't care about him anymore, that she wants us to be together. She hasn't gone near him except at work since the wedding, if that's what you're asking. Well, I mean she hadn't when I left. I kind of told her to date him while I was gone."

"Wow, okay. Well, we're good for the night, Owen. I've got a run to make tomorrow with the other guys so I need to get to sleep. 7 am this time. You in?"

Owen smiled, "Yes. Absolutely. But no girl talk this time, all right? Just sailing. I'm trying not to think about it. Trying to let my brain work it all out on it's own."

Luis grinned. "We'll be too busy to talk tomorrow, Owen, don't worry."


	10. Day 67 - Santa Juanita

**Day 67**

* * *

_I am a new day rising, I'm a brand new sky, to hang the stars upon tonight._

_I am a little divided - do I stay or run away and leave it all behind?_

_It's times like these you learn to love again_

* * *

Six in the morning on day 67 came very early. It had been only just over a week since he had left the office behind, but his sleep schedule had been so erratic that waking up early was painful. He felt his age. He pulled his creaky old bones out of bed and dressed for the day. He didn't bother showering again – he had rinsed off when he returned last night and he knew he'd need to take a full shower when he returned home again after whatever adventure today was keeping for him.

At 6:45 – early – Luis was in the kitchen, sipping black coffee and handing a mug to Owen. "You'll need the caffeine, my friend," he said with a smile. Owen choked it down – it was like black tar – and expressed his dubious appreciation. Luis laughed joyfully – clearly Owen had passed a test – and patted him exuberantly on the back. "Let's go, man. We have stops to make before we can brave the waters this morning."

Instead of the rather ordinary car that Luis drove yesterday, today he was driving a shady-looking 15 passenger van. There were two men in the van already, and they waved at Owen as he climbed into the first back row.

"_Buenos dias_," one of the men said politely.

"Morning," Owen replied as amicably as he could manage with a half-sleeping brain. He hoped the coffee would kick in soon.

Luis gestured to the man next to Owen, a man that looked around the same age as Luis, with a smile that matched his "This is my brother Tony," and to the man next to him in the front passenger seat, "and this is Tony's son Nico. Nico understands English but can't speak it, or won't, not sure which," he chuckled, "and Tony doesn't understand a word of English, unless it's a nautical term. Tony's wife is Nora, the woman who does your washing. You might see her and her grandson Nicquito around often while you stay in Señor Vann's house.

Owen nodded. "_Mucho gusto_," he said politely. "I don't have much Spanish," he apologized. "I guess living in southern California I should have learned, but I never got around to it."

"Nobody's perfect, Owen," Luis laughed. "Two more men to pick up, and then we get to work!"

They stopped at one of the manor houses and a young white man ran out as soon as they hit the driveway. He couldn't have been older than 17. "Morning, Padre Luis! Beautiful day today!" he exclaimed. "Hey, who's the new guy?"

"Paul, this is Owen. Owen, Paul. Owen's going to be helping us make the run today."

"As a sailor or a donor?"

Luis chuckled. "A sailor for today."

"Excellent! Great to have you on board, Owen! Sail much?"

"I used to. Getting my sea legs back, I admit."

"All right," Paul grinned. He was dressed in upscale sailing gear, in contrast to Luis's family who were wearing more serviceable clothes – sturdy but not fancy, and put through a lot of wear.

Then they drove into town, hooked through a couple of alleys and pulled up behind a large brick building. A tall, lanky man was standing beside a pallet of rough cardboard boxes. They stopped beside him and everybody exited the van. With no instruction, they started loading the boxes into the van.

The lanky man nodded toward Luis, then squinted at Owen. "_Padre, quien es el gordo_?"

Luis scowled at the man's words. "Morning, Max. This is Owen. He's a lawyer from L.A. and he's going to be joining us on the run today."

Owen extended his hand politely to the man Luis called Max. Max shook Owen's hand limply, but did not meet Owen's eyes. "_Por que_?" he asked stiffly.

"He's a good man, Max," Luis said quietly. "He's a sailor, too, and he might be able to help."

The man huffed. "_Buena suerte,_ Owen."

"_Gracias_," Owen said, crisply. He couldn't remember what _suerte_ meant, but coming from this man's voice it didn't sound pleasant. "What are we doing, exactly, Luis?" Owen was starting to get a knot in his stomach. He was unsure whether it was excitement, fear, or a heady mixture of both.

Luis grinned. "We're men on a mission, Owen. _Vamonos!_" At his command, the van was loaded up, closed, and all the men piled back in. They headed down to the docks.

* * *

The boat they rode in was bigger than the sailboat Luis had taken Owen out in yesterday, and they really needed every man on board to keep things running smoothly and quickly. The boxes they'd brought were loaded up and they took to the water quickly, heading southwest. They ran along at a steady clip and the wind was with them. The boat was on the shabby side and had been repaired many times, but it was strong. It reminded Owen of the clothes the men were wearing – practical, good quality, but they had seen better days.

Owen was impressed at how well the men worked together – clearly this was not the first trip they'd taken together and he guessed it wasn't their first time taking this route, either. Two hours of fairly high speed sailing later, one of the men shouted that they were almost there.

_Almost where_? Owen wondered. He saw it, then, a low-laying island heavily dotted with structure, with a long thick line of trees cutting it in half lengthwise. It shouted with color and life. "Is that where we are going?"

Max, ten feet away from him, laughed sharply.

"So, yes, then? Where is it?" Owen asked.

"Santa Juanita," Luis answered softly. "_Bienvenido_, Owen."

"Yeah," Paul scoffed. "Welcome to hell." His tone was jocular but his face was even.

* * *

There was a makeshift pier on the far side of the island. They docked there and unloaded the boxes. There was a small crowd of children waiting for them to arrive. "Padre Luis," the children cried jubilantly, crowding around him.

"Go away, _niños_. I have nothing for you," he bellowed mock-angrily.

One of the children, a little girl that appeared about five years old pounded on his legs. "We don't believe you, Padre," she said softly.

"Ha!" he snorted. "Ask Paul, then. I brought you nothing."

Paul, the young man who had been so exuberant on their voyage down, was only slightly less enthusiastic than he had been at 7. "Hmmmm," he said loudly. "I know I brought some candy for these wild children. Where could it be?"

"In his pockets like last time," one of the boys said nodding wisely. He looked to be about 9 and was the oldest of the bunch.

"Come and check, then, Timmy" Paul answered with a grin.

They bombarded him, then, _en masse_, and fished out the pockets of the long rain jacket he had thrown over his gear right as they disembarked. Sure enough, the pockets were full of hard candy.

"Where are your mothers this morning?" Max asked the children while they were crunching on peppermint discs and root beer barrels.

"Marna will be here shortly," the oldest boy said. "The others are working the market."

"All of them?"

"All but Marna. She's sick today."

While Paul was engaging the children, the other men were opening the boxes. Owen walked over to investigate, unsure what he was supposed to be doing. He saw then the contents of the boxes. Two were filled with canned goods – canned pasta and vegetables. Two were filled with unlabeled gallons of drinking water. One was filled with second-hand teddy bears. Another was crammed full of crumpled second hand clothing, jammed into the box as tightly as possible. Another was filled with what looked like used cell phones.

Owen pulled Luis to the side. "Hey, what am I looking at? I don't understand what we're doing here."

"The boxes are all donations. From the tourists and the churches." Luis did not elaborate further.

"For the children?" Owen prompted.

Max walked over to them. "I'll show him, Padre. You give these children some direction."

"OK," Luis answered. "Go easy on him, Max."

"Follow me," Max directed roughly.

He began to walk from the open beach towards the colorful buildings. From the dock they looked like a cramped but vibrant tribal village. As they got closer to the structure, Owen's stomach began to churn again. The dwellings were not what he expected A sour smelled filled the air. As the sights resolved themselves to his eyes, what looked like beautiful dwellings turned into reality – patchwork tents held up by metal poles and decorated with leaves and shells, sheet metal sheds rusting away and held together with duct tape, pallets torn apart and reconfigured to make shelter against the rain and little else. There was the sound of generators somewhere, but Owen didn't see anything else demonstrating electricity.

"Over there, that's the red light district," Max growled, pointing to a row of actual camping tents, each with a circle doily over the door. "Over there, he pointed to an adjacent section, where the ground was relatively free of debris and there were a few wooden tables, "that's where the children play while their mothers _work_. The younger ones think their mothers work only in the market, but the older ones figure out what the tents are for pretty easily."

Owen swallowed hard. "And your team-"

"We bring food, supplies. We've been bringing things since…" he hesitated, "…since a year. Paul's parents paid for a couple dozen composting toilets so some of the smell is clearing up. We try to bring things at least once a week."

"Why doesn't someone do something?"

"We are doing something, man," he answered defiantly. "What do you think this is?"

"I mean, the government. Shouldn't the state be doing something? This can't be legal," Owen answered.

"Of course it's not legal, man," Max looked at him like he was an idiot. "There are five hundred people living here in Santa Juanita at the last count. Maybe half of them, maybe more, are illegal refugees to begin with. The government doesn't know what to do with them, and the island is far enough out of sight from the nearest town that nobody cares enough to raise a stink, anyway. But even if they did, what would they do? They'd deport half the people and the rest would be homeless and lose their children, their families, their dignity."

Owen gestured at the houses, "This is dignity?"

"This is all they have, man. You can't fix it just by throwing legislation at it, or even throwing money at it. The whole place is broken, but it can only be fixed one person at a time, _m'entiendes_?"

"To be honest, no, I don't understand," Owen answered.

Max shook his head in disgust. "I didn't think you would, man. Luis didn't know what he was doing bringing you out here."

"Hey, hey, hold on," Owen said. "Show me, okay? Show me. I want to understand."

They walked on in brittle silence. Behind the fields of tents and sheds and old campers there was a dense grove of tall knotted trees, old, thin, worn by the sea, but strong, swaying in the breeze.

"These trees block the mainland from the smell of the homes. Well, the smell cleared up a lot, now, but there's still work to be done for that. On the other side, Santa Juanita is a little prettier."

They pushed through the trees and the island looked more like it had from afar. There was a long gravel street and tables were lined up on both sides. The tables were loaded with everything from beaded jewelry to crafts made from seashells to old cell phones – the contents of the boxes made a bit more sense now. "You bring them things to sell?"

"We bring three different kinds of things – food and drink, for obvious reasons. Things to sell – not all of us are in favor of that, because a lot of the money will go to drink and drugs, but some of it gets to the children eventually – and things to care for the children. Clothes, toys, books. Things to keep the children alive and happy for another week until we can figure out how to get them out."

"One at a time," Owen answered.

"Si," Max continued. "One at a time. Take Timmy, for example-"

"The big one?"

"Yes, the older boy. His mother works in the red light district – no surprise there. Most of their mothers do, it's the quickest way to make money on the island. Now Luis has found a job for her, at the church in Dana Point. She can do housekeeping there and greet the people on days when the pastor is not in. She can have room and board. But she won't leave until she makes enough money to buy herself new clothes and shoes. So we are trying to help her by giving her things to sell."

"Can't you just give her the money-"

"-won't take it-"

"or the shoes?"

"-won't take them. Wants to feel like she earned it herself. She has her dignity. Even the job offer is tearing at her, like it's charity. But she's a lucky one, she can prove her citizenship. It should only be a few more days before we can get her to take the job. Then she and Timmy can move off the island and start to do better for themselves. But that's just one story. One person that will let us talk to them. One job we can fill. And some of them get off the island, but then come back again." His expression darkened.

"Who comes here?" Owen asked. "Who is buying from the market, keeping this place going?"

"_Touristicos, _travelers, sailors. Some come for the crafts and the island atmosphere. It's in brochures," he scowled in disgust. "Some come for a cheap lay. Some come to help, but they don't stay long. Like I said, some get off the island but feel they can't really make it, so they come back."

"Wow," Owen said. He couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Come on," Max said, then. "Let's get back to the other men. They might need help giving out the food. You have to make sure it goes to the right ones or it will get sold for drug money."

They walked back to the dock in silence.


	11. Night 72 - Jane Says Goodbye

**Night 72**

* * *

_Though time gets in the way_

_I want you to stay _

_I want to stay_

* * *

When Deb was still alive, life had been better for Grayson. Naturally introverted, Grayson tended to shut up inside himself at the end of each day. He needed time and energy to process everything that he had seen, felt, done, or heard. A long hot shower, an episode of CSI (or three or four episodes) and a cold beer were absolutely necessary.. At the end of the day, Grayson did not want to talk, he just wanted to think and to be.

Opening himself up again was not so natural.

When Deb was alive, she seemed to know when to leave him alone and when to pull him out of his shell. So on just the right night she would return home with a DVD and a bag of low-fat lime-flavored microwave popcorn, or alternatively a new pair of shoes that she absolutely needed to go out and show off to the world tonight before they weren't new anymore.

When Deb died, it felt to Grayson as though the entire world was closed off to him. Oh, from the outside his life was a big success. He was a homeowner and a very successful lawyer. He knew that he was an attractive man, and he dressed well. He drove a nice car. But everything around him felt muffled and dampened after Deb died, as if he were wearing sunglasses and ear muffs all the time and didn't know how to take them off. Deb had always done it for him.

A few times, Jane had shamed him about the different women he dated. How could she possibly understand? Grayson Kent was not a womanizer. To the contrary, he was the only man he knew who was on good speaking terms with nearly every woman he had ever dated. They liked him because he genuinely cared about them, even remembered most of their birthdays (without being reminded by Facebook) and asked about their mothers' health. He dated easily and often because he liked most women and felt drawn to them. And with each woman he kissed, he felt that this might be the one. The one that could pierce the dark bubble that surrounded his life. A few disappointing encounters later - whether it be on date three or after two months of steamy sleepovers - he would realize that she was not the one. And in truth, that was a relief to both of them, because although opening Grayson had come so very naturally to Deb Dobkins, to every other woman that tried, it was challenging, and ultimately unfulfilling. They were happier to just be friends.

Then there was Jane, the dowdy, dismissive lawyer who had gotten Grayson his job. They had met on a case and if Jane had shown any interest in him, he had missed the fact completely. If anything, she seemed a bit condescending. Yet two weeks later, she had called him about the job opening. She must have seen something in his work that she liked.

With no warning at all, Deb died, in the most undignified way possible. Life ended for Grayson. And Jane had been there, for the end of his life and the beginning of this purgatory. He put himself right to work, hardly missing a day at his new job. Plowed right through his workload. Jane became best friends with Deb's best friend - how had that happened? Jane had slid neatly into his life as Stacy's best friend and his work buddy.

His initial impressions of Jane proved totally wrong. Far from being dowdy or condescending, Jane was cute and sweet and he enjoyed being around her. She was sharp as a tack, too, and he loved working on cases with her if for no reason than because they always won. There was more to it than that, though. Jane meshed with him, made him feel good without feeling like she wanted something from him. It was a calm and mutually enjoyable friendship. She offered him unconditional friendship and he needed that badly, but she was also unafraid to call him out when he was wrong.

When Jane started dating Owen, Grayson wasn't close enough to her to notice. It wasn't that he didn't care, he just didn't know. When he met Owen, he was put off by the man's gregarious nature and his overconfidence. When he realized Owen and Jane were dating he didn't really care at first and when he started to be annoyed, he didn't believe that it would last long.

And then came that significant day - the day that he had kissed Stacy for the first time - the day that Stacy told him that Jane was Deb. To this day he puzzled over what she could have meant, She refused to elaborate. At the time she had seemed to be pushing him toward Jane, telling him they belonged together. He believed her right away, but it was too late. Owen had followed Jane to Italy and cemented their relationship. He understood why the man was attracted to Jane, but could not see what Jane saw in him.

Since then he had been pining for her. He felt deep within him, that Jane was the key to unbreaking himself, that she would be able to open him up like Deb did. He found himself watching her constantly, fascinated by her smile, by her mentality, by her unflappable determination. He was drawn her to like a mosquito to a citronella candle. When she smiled at him, he melted. When she agreed with him, he felt that all was right in the world. And Jane angry with him made everything seem futile and fruitless.

Though he had single-handedly taken down their wedding, Grayson hadn't found himself particularly apologetic. If Jane was the one who could make him happy again, he deserved to have her. If Owen hadn't been enough for her, if Grayson's kiss had destroyed what they had, then Owen didn't deserve her anyway. Not that he ever had to begin with.

Now Jane had pushed him away not just at the wedding, but on four further occasions. Owen had disappeared - finally - and been gone for a few weeks now. Was he ever coming back? Supposedly he would be back when Kim went on leave.

Grayson glanced over at the wall clock and realized it was 3am. He was on his fifth episode of CSI New York - season three. There were two crumpled beer cans on his coffee table and a third open that he had never bothered to drink.

When was Kim due? In a few more weeks? Another month? Jane seemed so much more relaxed with the big guy gone. Should he try again? She had kissed him after the concert, and if that phone hadn't rung she might have invited him in.

What would Stacy say? Would she be hurt if he still wanted to give it a try with Jane? Was this even an appropriate time to be dating Jane?

"No sleep for Grayson tonight," he murmured.

Tomorrow he would give it another try. One last try. One last gasp for air before submerging into the murky depths of life again.

* * *

Grayson invited Jane over for a movie - _Empire Records_. It had been one of his favorites and he was always trying to get Deb to watch it with him. He thought it would be appropriate to watch with Jane. It wasn't a love story - did Jane watch love stories? She had been so critical of _Ghost_ he doubted it. _Empire Records_ was a movie people his age watched to remember what it was like to be young and passionate before they forgot how.

He made a big bowl of popcorn and served hard lemonade - Jane declined and had a soda instead. They laughed at the movie together and sang the words along with the songs.

When it was over, Grayson looked over at Jane and grinned. He squeezed her shoulder with the arm that was wrapped around it. "Now this was fun. We should do this more often."

"Yes, we should," she smiled at him. "If we're being nostalgic, I actually have _Breakfast Club_ on DVD, I'll bring it next time. Stacy loves that movie, though she disagrees with the ending-"

"I meant just you and me, Jane," he said softly. "I want to spend more time together."

"Really?" Jane asked.

"Really, Jane," he answered. "In fact," he pulled something out of his pocket, "I'd like to give us a real try. He handed her a small jewelry box. She opened it up and there was a modest diamond ring."

"Wow...well, this is unexpected," Jane said softly.

"I realize it's grossly inappropriate. I know that. I know how stupid it is. Everything about this situation has been completely wrong and I'm sorry about that. But if you'd just give me a chance, I think this... this mess will just be something to laugh about someday. Something to tell the grandkids, you know?"

"Grayson-"

"No, just, hear me out. I know you and Owen were getting married, and you are hurting from the loss of that. I even realize that was mostly my fault. Look, we don't have to rush into it. We can go as slow as you want. We can... we can move away if you want. Leave all this behind. Start over somewhere else. This is just the beginning."

"I'm sorry, Grayson," Jane said sadly.

"Don't-"

"No, listen, Grayson. It's not the beginning. It's.. it needs to be the end."

The words were bricks dropping into Grayson's stomach. "Don't say that, Jane."

"Just listen, Grayson. Out of everybody, this situation has been the least fair to you."

"What-"

"Grayson, please don't talk anymore, just listen."

"Jane-"

"Dammit, Grayson, let me talk," she snapped.

Cowed, he was silent.

"Grayson, we used to have something really special. It was a long, long time ago."

He furrowed his brow in confusion. "I don't understand. You and I never-"

"I know, and I can't say anymore than that. I can't explain it to you. But I knew - I know how it was when you lost Deb. And I'm sorry about that." Her eyes sparkled with tears. "I'm sorry you didn't get to say goodbye. I'm so sorry you were alone so long. I'm sorry that Saturdays came and you sat alone at home watching television instead of karaoke night and 2am movies at the Center. "

He stared at her, perplexed.

"I'm sorry that you and Deb never got to get married, and I'm sorry that you'll never have the children you were supposed to have. I'm sorry that the family reunions at Disneyland were cancelled. I'm so, so sorry."

"Why are you saying all this, Jane? I haven't even been thinking about Deb. I've been thinking about you. How can you even know - did Stacy tell you all of this? Is that what this is about? Is this coming from Stacy?"

"No," she said sadly. "This has nothing to do with Stacy. This is me saying goodbye, Grayson."

"Why, Jane? Give me one good goddamn reason. I know you love me, too, I can see it in your eyes."

"Because I'm not who I used to be, Grayson. I've been trying to be that girl again, and I'm just not. And I'm not who you need, either. I used to - I used to be able to just take you for who you were, but I'm not anymore. I mean, I can't anymore. I see you so differently. Not worse, just. I'm sorry, Grayson, I just can't explain it."

"I don't believe you," Grayson said. He tilted his head down and kissed her. For a moment, it felt as if she would respond to him. Her lips trembled open and she made a small groan, a sound of warmth and passion. She sounded exactly like Deb when she did that. It fueled him, drove him to want her more. She pushed him away just slightly, but he cupped the back of her head with his hand and kissed her again. She pushed him away more firmly, then.

"No, Grayson. I've made my choice," black makeup was trailing down her eyes now and she looked so sad - not because of him, but for him.

He scooted backward away from her on the couch, ashamed of the anger that flared up inside of him. "At least tell me why," he whispered. "Why him and not me?"

"I'm not choosing between you and him, Grayson. I could never have done that. I'm choosing between who I used to be and who I want to be. Can you understand that at all?"

"No, and I don't think it even makes sense. I think you're wrong. You and I are great together. We have great chemistry. You - you make me happy. I feel strong and good around you. We're so good together in court, too. Don't I make you feel good, too, Jane?"

"Grayson, yes, you do, you always have. But it was never enough. The good you made me feel was too easy for me. You always approved of me and admired me, and that was good, it was beautiful and it was comfortable. But it wasn't good _for me_. As soon as we started this again, I felt old feelings creeping back in again, things I don't need to feel again. I felt jealousy and pettiness and the need to be the center of your universe. And I can't be the center of your universe again, Grayson. I'm not that kind of girl anymore."

"You're not making any sense, Jane," he said thickly.

"I'm sorry," she said sadly. "I can't really make sense."

"Please don't do this, Jane," he was crying, then, crying again, and her arms were around him and she laid his head against her chest and she sang softly to him, "lucky we're in love in every way, lucky to have stayed where we have stayed, lucky to be coming home someday..."

He looked up at her again in wonder, "That was Deb's song, how did you...?"

"Grayson," she said, "You'll be lucky again, soon, I promise. But it won't be me. You have to let go of the past and move forward. I had to do it, too. I don't want to lose your friendship, but if we need to be apart for awhile for you to be able to heal, then just tell me."

The tears were done, then, and he felt strangely calm. He knew now that he hadn't been wrong about Jane. She would have been the one to make him feel like Deb did. He was too late. But he didn't want to lose her forever, and there was still some connection between her and Deb. He would have to let it go.

He reached over to the end table and handed her a box of tissues.

"Thank you," she said.

"You've got something there on your face," he said with a small chuckle. He made a big swirling circle over her cheek.

"Oh, god," she chuckled in response. "Mascara?"

"You could pass for Alice Cooper right now," he answered.

"May I use the bathroom, please?"

"You know where it is."

She exited and he picked up the ring box, turning it over in his hands. He should probably return it before anyone else saw it and felt sorry for him.

Instead, after Jane left, with a hug and a promise to stay friends, he just popped it into the top drawer of his dresser. Maybe Jane would be right, and he'd get lucky sooner rather than later.


	12. Day 76 - Chocolate Covered Strawberries

**Early Morning 73**

* * *

_I don't need to be your only one_

_I don't need your comforting_

_I just need you with me_

* * *

Grayson's doorbell rang at 1:45am, two hours almost to the minute after Jane left. He was still awake in front of the television, still wearing his dress shirt. He frowned and went to the front door, peering through the peep hole. It was Stacy, in her pink striped pajamas and a pair of black ballet flats. He opened the door.

"Is everything ok?" he asked.

"Jane came home and she was crying," Stacy said blankly. "She said... she said she dumped you. I didn't even realize you were a thing."

"We weren't 'a thing,' but I wanted us to be," he said honestly. "I thought Jane did, too."

"But you're not going to be a thing now."

"No," he answered. "We're not."

"Is Owen coming back?"

"I.. I guess. We didn't talk about Owen. She just said she was sorry and we had to move forward."

"Oh. Are you going to do that, Grayson?"

"I'm going to try."

"Well.. may I come in?"

He stepped back from the doorway and folded her into his arms, "That would be nice," he whispered.

* * *

**Day 75**

On day 75, Owen had determined to do nothing all day. Nora was running a vacuum in his bedroom. Little Nicquito, Luis's great-nephew, was running around on the large wooden deck chasing a butterfly between the floral planters. Owen himself was barefoot, sitting at the large wooden picnic table playing solitaire.

"Owen," little Nicquito called, "come and play with me!"

Owen laughed, "What are you playing, Nicquito?"

"Play hide and seek with me, Owen!"

Owen shook his head and chuckled, "All right, what should I count to?"

"Count to a million, Owen!"

"All right. One... two... three... a million!"

Nora walked out of the french doors and on to the deck just then. "Nico, are you bothering Mr. Owen? I think he is trying to play a game by himself."

Owen waved her concern away, "It's all right, Nora. He's a good kid. He doesn't bother me. Thanks for the vacuuming. I'm sure it looks nice."

"No need to thank me," she smiled warmly, "It's relaxing work and Mr. Vann pays me very well. Most people aren't blessed with work they can do while caring for their grandson."

"Find me, Owen, find me!"

Owen got up out of his seat and crouched into a hunting bear position. "Oooh, where are you Nico? I can't find you!"

A little giggle erupted from behind one of the planters, so Owen did not look over there.

"Hmmm, is he in the ocean? Buried in a sand dune, perhaps?"

"I'm right HERE, Owen!"

Owen laughed and scooped the boy up in his arms, setting him down on the bench he was hiding under. "Found you!" he exclaimed.

For the first time, he wondered if his child was a girl or a boy, and then with a twist of his stomach, whether he was going to be raising the child or not.

As if reading his thoughts, Nora sat down beside him and rested her hand on his shoulder. "Do you have children?" She asked him.

"No, but, I'm going to be a father, soon. Just not sure if things will work out with the mother yet."

She stood up and hugged him, a gentle, maternal squeeze. "I will pray to the Blessed Mother for you, Mr. Owen. It will be all right, you will see."

He smiled at her, "_Gracias_, Nora."

"Tomorrow evening, we have a big family dinner at our home. Come and eat with the family. Luis will be there to bless the meal and it will be good for your spirit. Might be good for your Spanish accent, too," she chuckled.

He laughed, "Yes. Thank you. I would love to be there."

Just then, his phone buzzed with a text. "Daises looking a bit down. So's Jane's face. Just saying. -T"

His mouth was a fixed line of determination. No more playing around. He was going all in.

* * *

**Day 76**

An hour after Jane arrived at work, another bouquet was delivered, confirming Jane's theory. Last night the daisies had finally started shedding their petals on her desk, so she had taken them home. As soon as she took one bouquet home, another one appeared on her desk the next day. If she left the bouquet there, no new one appeared.

Each delivery had been nicer than the last. The first bouquet was a dozen fine red roses. Considering she'd had dinner with Grayson the night before, and the generic nature of the bouquet, Jane hadn't been sure whether the bouquet was from Grayson or Owen. She was perplexed and a little ashamed, so she took them home right away.

She was surprised when another bouquet was delivered the very next day. This one was an elaborate thing, an enormous monochrome display. A wide-mouthed white glazed vase was stuffed with white roses, baby's breath, Queen Anne's lace, and little white star flowers. It looked almost like a bridal bouquet. She knew for sure that this was from Owen - Grayson would never choose anything so elaborate or so non-traditional for office delivery. It was too big to leave on the desk, and she wasn't sure if she wanted Grayson to see it or not, so she relegated it to side table duty.

Five days later, she finally took that one home and put it in the trash.

The next day, a new bouquet arrived. This one was lovely, too: hand-dyed rainbow roses. These were more modest than the last bouquet, but Jane really loved the colors. She'd heard of rainbow roses, but never seen any in real life. She left them on her desk until the petals faded.

The day the petals were starting to fall to her desk, a new bouquet arrived. This one was a dozen cheerful pink gerber daisies. They made Jane smile.

Today's was a little different though. It was a simple cobalt blue vase with 7 wooden dowel rods poking out the top, each painted green. At the end of each rod was a generously sized chocolate cover strawberry. Nothing fancy, just chocolate and strawberries. The strawberries were surrounded by a bunch of babies' breath. Jane's sense of smell was heightened by her altered hormones from the pregnancy and so the fresh, sweet, sharp scent of the ripe red berries filled her whole office, mingling with the warm, bitter, seductive aroma of dark chocolate.

Unlike the previous bouquets, this one actually had a note. It read:

_Kim or no Kim, Grayson or no Grayson, I'll be home in this many days._

_-O_

_p.s. Enjoy for me and remember. Sorry for not playing fair._

Grinning, feeling better than she had in nearly three months, Jane slid a strawberry off of its wooden stem and took a bite. The chocolate was thick and rich and the berry was so juicy. It took her back to that night, their last night together. She remembered again the feeling of Owen's cheek against hers, kissing his mouth and tasting the strawberries on his lips. Face flushing, she remembered that he had teasingly crushed one of the berries against her skin, leaving a sticky, fruity stain. The stain hadn't lasted long under his attention.

"_You are at _work_, Jane Bingum_," she reminded herself sternly. "Pull yourself together." She popped the rest of the berry into her mouth and decided to take the rest of them home to enjoy by herself at home in private.

Not playing fair, indeed.

She wasn't sure she wanted to wait 7 days to see him again.

* * *

**Night 76**

Luis drove Owen to the home of his brother's family for a big dinner. Apparently they all liked him and enjoyed spending time with him. Owen was more than happy to have the company and he felt very relaxed among the familial chatter, even though more than half of it was Spanish. Nora was making home baked pizzas, so he excused himself to the kitchen to see if she needed help.

Luis was already in the kitchen with her. he had flour on his nose and was laying pepperoni over top of cheese.

"It smells delicious," Owen commented.

"_Gracias_, Owen," Nora smiled. Owen noticed that in her own home she dropped the "Mr." from in front of his name. That made him feel even more welcome. "And thank you for coming to dinner. We are honored to have you as a guest."

"The honor is all mine," he smiled, "I just wanted to come back and see if I could lend a hand," he said.

"Yes, you can take those pitchers on the counter and fill them with ice water. Yes, those ones. Thank you. Luis is finishing up the toppings and then he is going to put the last of the pizzas in the oven. If you two have everything in hand, I will run out and grab some flowers from the garden and some fresh parsley to garnish. Be right back."

Luis smiled as she walked away.

"What an amazing woman, _no_?" Luis commented.

"She certainly works hard," Owen answered. "I gather she and Tony help Nico with the little guy full time, then?"

"_Si_, Nico lives at home with his parents and his son. His wife left a few years ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Oh, it's all right. She was no good for him. She brought out the worst in him, Owen. We were all relieved when she left. Nicquito doesn't even remember her. Nora is a good grandmother to him, she gives him a good example of womanhood. _De verdad_, Nicquito will grow up with the finest example of womanhood I have ever seen."

"Ha!" Owen laughed. "You old softie! You love her."

"Aha, this is no secret, Owen. Everyone knows I love her. She was mine when I was 16, the love of my life, but when she met Tony, she was lost me. She loved him better."

"Wow. So, what, you never married, then? Just hung around your brother's family for the rest of your life?"

"In a manner of speaking," the older man laughed, "But, Owen, I have married my fair share of women."

"I knew it, you old dog," Owen grinned.

Nora was back in then, with a bunch of fresh parsley. "Out of my way, gentlemen. Are the pizzas out of the oven yet, Luis?"

"Si, _corazon,_" he answered with a smile.

"Then take them to the big table. Owen, take out the pitchers. The children are hungry. Everything is nearly ready!"

Everyone seated themselves at a long wooden table in a well-lit dining room. The room was white with wide open arches and the walls were coverd from top to bottom with photographs framed in dark wood. Luis sat at one end of the table, with Nico and Owen flanking him. Tony sat at the other end, with Nora to his left and another woman to his right. There were at least twenty other family members lining the long tables.

"Will you bless us please, Padre Luis?" Nora asked softly. Despite her tone, her voice was heard across the whole table. When she spoke, everyone was listening.

"_Si. Gloria al Padre y al Hijo y al Espíritu Santo. Como era en el principio, ahora y siempre, por los siglos de los siglos. Amén_."

"_Amén_," the table chorused.


	13. Night 76 - The Storm

**Night 76**

* * *

_The kingdom of the heavens is now advancing_  
_Invade my heart invade, this broken town_  
_Two things you told me_  
_That you are strong and you love me_

* * *

Everyone at the massive table had as much as they could possibly eat. They ate their fill of the pizzas, then Nora brought out a selection of pies. Owen was feeling guilty for eating so poorly since the wedding. He realized that he was acting masochistically and it needed to stop. He had one large slice of pizza, a generous portion of salad, and passed on pie and a result, he was feeling fairly self-satisfied when dinner was done. He was soaking up the conversation around him, basking in the low energetic hum that pulsed through the room, smiling at everything said, even when he understood less than half of it.

He was too deep in this natural buzz to initially register the shock and fear on Paul's face when he clambered into the dining room and whispered into Luis' s ear. Even when the blood drained from Luis' s face, it did not alarm him. When Luis jumped up, pushed away from the table, signaled to his brother and nephew and barked, "_Vamonos_!" There was something in his tone that roused Owen from his stupor. He got up and followed them to the next room.

The men were speaking too fast for Owen to pick out even a word or two, but every now and then, Paul would cut in with an English word or phrase. "No, it's a tropical storm, of course not a hurricane... at least four feet under...definitely...yes, it could break... I already called the National Guard, they're on the way..."

"What's going on?" Owen asked.

"A storm heading for Santa Juanita," Luis answered curtly. "We have to go now. Paul, take Nora and Nico and go down to the church. Get all the blankets you can find."

"Wait, I don't understand. Tropical storms don't hit the west coast. It just doesn't work like that."

"You are right, Owen, they do not. The islanders don't even know to be afraid. They have no shelter, no high ground. The children... we have to go."

"Okay, lets go," Owen.

"No. Not you, Owen," Luis said firmly. You've only been down once. It's going to be very dangerous. I can't ask you to sail with us. The water is going to be treacherous. The storm could hit at any time, we may be in great danger."

"Please, Luis, let me go. I might not know the water, but you could use an extra pair of hands, couldn't you?"

"Yes, Owen, I could but -"

"That's settled, then. I'm going."

The tropical storm was 3 hours away, but it was a two hour trip to the island. There was no way that the four of them could evacuate the entire island, but there was also no guarantee that the National Guard could get there before them. The plan was to race to the island, evacuate all the children and as many others as they could safely put on their boat (which wasn't many) and speed toward the nearest town. Paul would be calling ahead to try and find a docking point for them and arrange for transportation back to the church, where the children would be able to sleep.

The storm hadn't settled upon them yet but the water felt choppier than the last trip. Owen's stomach was churning again, a horrible combination of pizza settling into his stomach and terror settling into his brain. With Owen, Luis, Tony, and Nico, they had men enough to sail the large boat but it was tight and they were working constantly. The wind was forbiddingly calm.

By the time they arrived at Santa Juanita, the wind was starting to rise. The atmosphere over the island was oppressive and dark. The docked at the backside of the island The children were running around playing tag, throwing their scrawny bodies into the gusts of wind. Sitting dejectedly at one of the tables was Max.

"What is Max doing here?" Owen asked Luis, shouting to be heard over the wind.

"He took his own boat down an hour before we did," Luis answered. "Max, what the hell were you thinking? Your little yacht isn't big enough to make it through the storm. You need to leave now and head straight for the mainland."

"No, Luis. They'll never get them all off. I'm staying with them."

"¿_Estás loco_, Max? We don't know how bad the storm is going to be yet, but it will almost certainly devastate the island. You could die."

"Yes, maybe, but I will die with them."

"You are crazy. We need you. The family needs you. The church needs you."

Max refused to respond.

Luis stared hard at his friend. "_Dios mio_... _bueno_, but at least help us with the children. They're afraid. We need to find their mothers if possible and get them together below, _mijo_."

"I will help you, yes," Max responded. "I know where most of the mothers are. But I am not riding in with you. Give my place to one of the women."

"Max, we might need your help on the trip back. Can you not see how the waves are rising?"

Owen cut in. "Listen, not to interrupt this touching little chat, but we really need to keep moving," Owen felt like an ass, but the sky was darkening further as they spoke and the water was beginning to get choppy. There wouldn't be any point to their potentially suicidal trip if they couldn't at least save the children.

* * *

It took almost forty minutes to round together the little crew of children and young women. Most of the islanders were clustered together in the sturdier structures. A few came out and asked questions. Luis answered them calmly and honestly. Yes, a storm was coming. It might be a tropical storm, definitely not a hurricane. Yes, they should be scared. Yes, rescuers were on the way to try and help. They could only take the children for now.

Owen expected there to be a riot when Luis answered so honestly, but the people seemed to respect his words. He wasn't sure if it was a respect for Luis's apparent authority, or genuine concern for the children. One teenage boy even helped the smaller children pack up their precious belongings and walked them to the dock.

After they loaded up all the children and the mothers, Luis drew Owen to the side. "_Hermano_, I have made a decision. I am going to stay with Max."

Owen shook his head, "No, you're absolutely not," he said with finality. "Just because Max is being crazy doesn't mean you should, too."

"No," Luis said softly. "Max is the wise one. But I still need to get the children back, and I believe you and Tony and Nico can do this. You have good understanding of the boat, you know how to read the charts and how to respond. My brother and his son can handle the rest."

"Not without you, we can't."

"Yes, you can. They will need you, Owen, but the three of you can do it." He turned and addressed teenage boy. "¿_Mijo, puedes trabajar?"_

_"Si, padre. ¡Por supuesto!"_

_"¿Hablas ingles?"_

"Yes, sir!"

"Good man," Luis patted the boy on the back and then pushed him towards Owen. "Here, my brother, I give you this boy in my place. He will work for you. When the National Guard arrives, I will return home with them if I am able."

Owen was angry now, "This is ridiculous. What can you possibly do for these people? Either the National Guard will be able to evacuate them or they will not. You staying is just one more body for them to pick up."

"Owen," Luis's voice was louder than Owen had ever heard it. "We have known each other for only a few days, yes? But I consider you a great friend. There is no way you can understand what I am doing or why Max would stay. You have only a few pages of a very long story. In answer to your question, I will stay and give the people peace. I will hear their confessions and grant them absolution."

Owen scoffed, "Oh, you're a big holy man, now? Well, I'm sure that will be a great comfort when they are drowning."

"Laugh, my friend. You can not understand, as I said. I do not fault you for that. Regardless, what I do is not in your charge. However, what I am asking you to do is. If you do not think you are capable of navigating then I will go with you, and this boy will have to stay here instead."

Owen's heart twisted, "Now, that's not fair, Luis."

"We are out of time, Owen. Will you do this for me, and for the boy, and for the children, yes or no?"

Owen kicked the dock as hard as he could and turned away from his friend, beginning to release the boat.

"Yes or no?" he called.

"YES!" he roared in angry affirmation. Already soaking wet, he stormed into the water.

"Owen!"

He whipped around and glared at the man.

"Tell Nora and Nico that I love them!"

"No, you tell them yourself!" he yelled.

* * *

With Luis, the return trip would have already been harrowing. Without him, it was disastrous. Tony knew the way to shore, but couldn't speak English excepting the most basic navigational terms. Owen could read the instruments and knew how to respond, but his body was tired and he could only do so much. With every twist, he was torn between trying to communicate with the little crew and killing himself trying to do everything himself. Worse, among the three men, there was no clear leader. Each of them was fairly equal in skill and experience with sailing. The teenage boy - whose name was Marco - acted as an interpreter and mediator, shouting back and forth between the men above the roar of the waves. The storm was beginning to rise and the water was becoming dangerously choppy as they lost sight of the land.

25 minutes into the trip, they should have been halfway there. Owen was starting to feel his age again. He had already lost his dinner over the side of the ship. He wasn't seasick, just scared and tired. Nico and Tony were doing a good job at keeping them on track and keeping the boat upright.

30 minutes later they should have arrived at the shore. But they had not. Instead, they could see nothing around them but pitching water and thick green sky.

10 minutes after that, the waves turned into whitecaps. Marco was throwing up now and his eyes were full of tears.

"Marco," Owen shouted. "Go down below and make sure the children are sitting still. They are probably terrified, can you please help them stay calm? Luis brought enough life jackets for them, can you make sure they are all wearing them?"

The boy nodded, trembling.

Owen had personally checked life jackets before they left the island, and he doubted the children were doing much more than crying in their mother's arms, but the boy needed to be brave, and it would be easier for him to do it with the children than it would with Owen. As it was, Owen was afraid that they weren't going to make it.

"Why the hell did I let the old man guilt me like that?" he wondered aloud. The wind was so loud that even talking to himself at full voice no one could hear him. "Why didn't I just tell him I couldn't do it?"

The ship pitched nastily again and Owen, distracted, went tumbling down. He grabbed his line to keep from falling off the deck, but it didn't save him from the slipper deck as his legs twisted under him. He grabbed at a rope and heard the nasty crack of bone. He shouted in pain. Even that was barely audible.

Nico, on the far side of the sails, saw him go down and ran over to him, babbling in Spanish. Owen couldn't make out a single word. Everything around him faded to black.

* * *

Back in Dana Point, Nora and Nicquito were finished preparing a place for the children to sleep. They had laid out sleeping bags, bottled water, teddy bears, and granola bars. They had cleaned up Nora's giant kitchen. Frightened and sad, Nora had run out of things to do while waiting for the men to return with their precious cargo. Six hours had passed since the men left and she had heard nothing. It was two o'clock in the morning. The storm had passed by.

She drove down to the church again to see if they had returned and not called. Nothing. She called Paul on the cell phone again - he confirmed that he was still waiting at the dock for them and had heard nothing. She drove down to Senor Vann's house, thinking perhaps Owen had returned first. The house was dark, but there was a strange vehicle in the driveway.

Quietly, Nora opened the front door - it was unlocked - and looked around. There was noone in the kitchen or the livingroom. She looked into the bedroom - it was dark. Then back to the kitchen.

"_Abuelita_," Nicquito hissed, tugging on his grandmother's shirt. "¿_Quien es la mujer en la cama de Owen_?"

"A woman, Nico? Really?" Nora looked at her grandson quizzically.

"_Si, abuela_."

Nora peeked into the bedroom and her eyebrows went up in surprise. Sure enough, there was a woman asleep in Owen's bed, laying on top of the bedclothes. Uncertain whether to wake the woman and tell her that Owen was missing - or even whether this woman might be an unrelated friend of Señor Vann - Nora quietly slipped away.

"_No se_, Nico. We'll ask Owen tomorrow, ok? _Probablemente, ella es un ángel._"

"_Lo creo que sí_," Nicquito agreed.

"Are you tired, Nico?"

"Yes. Tired."

"Let's go back to the church and you can sleep in one of the sleeping bags. I'm going to make some phone calls."

* * *

Jane awoke to the swinging of a door and the sound of shuddered sobbing. She sat up quickly. Where was she? Owen's friend's beach house. Was she in bed? She must have fallen asleep waiting for him. She vaguely remembered sitting down on the bed around midnight, disappointed that he was out so late, especially with the heavy rain. She had wondered where he could be so late - a bar? a friend's house?

She got out of the bed and walked out to the livingroom. Owen was there. Any worry she had about him out running around was quickly eclipsed by concern for his well being. He was kneeling on the ground, his head on the couch, arms crossed against his chest. The sobbing sound was coming from him.

"Owen-" she whispered.

His head snapped toward her. His face was filthy and his hair was matted damply to his head. His clothes were soaking wet as well, she noticed, and filthy. "Jane-?" he stammered.

"Owen, I - oh my God, Owen, what happened?"

"The..." he sounded immensely tired. "The children. We had to... save the children."

"Are you - are you delirious, Owen?"

"No," he huffed. "No... Jane, really, we... sailed back from the island... Tony and Nico and I... we ... they're... at the church now."

"What children? Owen... oh my God, Owen is your arm broken?"

"Could be," he said slowly. "Um, yes. I think it is." He nodded.

"How did you get here?"

"I... drove." He coughed lightly and smirked. "Good thing it was my left arm."

"That is _not_ funny. That is so dangerous. Is there a hospital here, somewhere?"

"Nope... no hospitals anywhere near Dana Point."

She glared at him.

He tried to return her glare, but couldn't. "Your car has GPS, right?" her asked her. "I don't... I don't know where..."

"Fair enough. "

"I should change first," he said. "Can you help me?"

"Oh, like they really care at the emergency room," she bristled. "I see right through that trick, _your honor_. Come on, I'll help you get back in the car."

* * *

Under the thick veil of medication and partial consciousness, Owen still sensed Jane there. He barely heard her voice, but then another voice joined hers.

"Jane Bingum?"

"Yes?" Her voice was bright and friendly, but cautious.

"You are Owen's woman?" he knew the voice, the small older man he had been spending his time with. What was his name? Owen could remember the face but not the name. There was no smile in the man's voice.

"Yes. Yes, I suppose I am," she responded. She increased the level of friendliness in her voice, he knew, she was trying to engage the man, trying to get him to smile at her.

"I have a message for you," he responded curtly.

"A message? From Owen?"

"No, Jane. From my boss."

That was all Owen heard.

* * *

When he finally woke for real, Jane was still there. She was sitting in the fold out lounge chair in the corner of the room, wrapped in at least two hospital blankets, with her eyes half closed and her mouth half open.

She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.


	14. Day 77 - Kim's Birth Story

**Day 77**

* * *

_I knew there would come a day when all was said and done_

_Everything I was is everything but gone_

_All my big mistakes are bouncing off your wall_

_The bottles never break, the sorrow never comes _

* * *

Kim Kaswell felt her waters break during closing, but she didn't bat an eye. She had the case in the bag, and it was a good pay-out for the firm. It wasn't the kind of case that Jane thrived on – just causes and righteous wins – it was a boring corporate dispute with no real good guys or bad guys, just a stack of facts that she could leverage to win.

And she did win, with gusto, she was sure as she finished her closing. The judge dismissed the jury, and she turned to Grayson, smiled sweetly and said, "I need you to take me to the hospital. Right now."

Grayson raised an eyebrow. "Right now? Why? What's wrong?"

She smiled again. "Right now, Grayson. Right _now_. My waters have broken, I need to go to the hospital right now, and you're the only one here I can trust. You're driving."

"Um, right now?"

She smiled again, still trying to be sweet, but straining at it now. "_Right_ _now_, Grayson. If you ask again, I'm going to punch you in the face. Just... consider that fair warning."

"Wow. Okay. I knew pregnant women were mean, but…"

"Let's go, Grayson."

They left Grayson's car in the parking garage near the courthouse and took Kim's – it was already fitted with a carseat, she explained, and she needed it. Surely he could take a taxi later and in the meantime could stop being such a baby about the parking bill.

Grayson seemed relieved when they got to the hospital. They tried to wheel her to the labor room, but she insisted on walking all the way. She was uncharacteristically chatty. She tried to talk to Grayson about the case and about how much money it would be bringing in the firm, but he didn't seem to want to talk. If anything, he seemed a bit green.

In the labor room, they confined her to a bed, wrapping velcro straps around her belly to measure contractions and the baby's heartbeat. Grayson sat her bags in the corner and stood to the side, careful not to watch while they checked her cervix.

The nurse smiled at them both, gave Grayson instructions on where to find the ice chip dispenser, then left. Apparently, she was only dilated to 3 centimeters and there needed to be more – more movement, more pain – before she would be taken too seriously.

After the nurse left, Grayson walked up to the bed, "So… is there someone I can call for you? A labor partner? Parker? Your dad?"

"Fuck Parker," she smiled again.

"Yeah, no, fair enough, and I, seriously, totally understand how you feel about that," Grayson nodded and just kept nodding, "But, um, shouldn't he know that his child is about to be born?"

Kim sighed. "I guess. Yes. Okay. Call him."

"And tell him to come down?"

Kim frowned. "I don't really want him here _now_, if that's what you mean," she answered.

"It's kind of what I mean, yes. Like, to hold your hand or something."

"Uh, no. Absolutely not. That's the crap that got me in this situation to begin with. No holding hands with Parker."

"Okay, but-"

"No, Grayson. I'll call him after the baby is born. Not now."

"Okay. Okay, fair enough, Kim. But isn't there maybe someone else we should be calling, who _can_ come and hold your hand?"

She sighed. "All right, truthfully, Grayson, my friend Lindsay promised she would be my labor partner."

Grayson rubbed his hands together then reached for his phone. "Great, what's her number?"

Kim recited her friend's number and Grayson dialed it. He waited, waited, then frowned. "Um, hello, this is… this is Grayson, Kim Kaswell's co-worker. Kim is in labor. At the hospital. So if you could come. Thanks."

"Thanks, Grayson," Kim smiled thinly.

"So now we just wait for her to arrive, huh? Did you want me to stay until then?"

"Yes, please," she smiled again, all business. "Oh, but, you know she's not actually coming."

"Sorry?"

"Well, see, I wasn't due for two more weeks, so she asked if it would be okay to fly to DC for a few days. I'm sure she'll fly back as soon as she gets your message, but it won't be before the baby comes.

"Right… how about your father?"

"Yeah, my Dad is living in Seattle with his girlfriend right now."

"And you didn't think maybe he'd like to fly in for the birth of his grandchild?"

"Oh, no, I totally did. He'll be in L.A. in…. 6 days. He's going to stay with me for two weeks." She smiled again, but this time Grayson could see that her lips were trembling.

"Jeez… okay, Kim, no more guessing games. Who do you want to stay with you during labor?"

Kim took a deep breath and smiled at him. "Well, now that you mention it…"

* * *

Two hours later, Grayson was pacing nervously outside the bathroom of the modest-sized hospital room. He had removed his jacket and his tie – then later his dress shirt. He was down to his dark grey dress pants and white t-shirt. He had eaten a small chicken sandwich out of the hospital cafeteria – but only because the nurse had run to get it for him – Kim wouldn't let him leave, even for a half an hour, even when she was only dilated to 5 – apparently the goal was 10 – and not in all that much pain.

Now she was up to 7, and making a lot of angry noise. She was in the Jacuzzi tub in the bathroom. Grayson could hear her in there, alternating between quietly splashing around the tub and moaning loudly. He had reluctantly asked if she wanted him to go into the bathroom with her – he really didn't want to watch her bathe while she was crying in pain and working making on a baby – but she had refused him, anyway. She said she really wasn't the hand-holding type, she didn't need help dealing with the pain – she just didn't want to be alone.

Her friend had called, and her father, too. Both were jumping on the soonest flights to LA to try and get to the baby as soon as possible. If Kim was in labor for a very long time, they might have made it. But so far it seemed as though the baby would be born tonight – at least, that was what the nurses said.

He didn't tell Kim – would never tell her himself – that he had paid for the upgrade to her father's flight. Although her father was more than willing to come out right away, he didn't have the cash to buy a new flight. Grayson had quietly called Jane's assistant, given her his credit card number – after watching her work with Jane all those years, he knew she was trustworthy – and asked her to make it happen.

All of a sudden, there came a yowl from the bathroom – a loud bellow of frustration and pain. His eyes widened. The doors to the labor room were pushed open by a small team of nurses.

"Out of the way, dad," one of the nurses barked. He didn't bother to correct her.

They went into the bathroom without asking for Kim's permission. One nurse grabbed each arm and half-led, half-carried her to the bed. She was bearing down and babbling loudly, abusively.

"It's time," one of the nurses said. "Let's get this baby out of you."

"Do you think I can't tell it's TIME?" Kim was asking. "Get your hands off of me!" She yowled again.

They were trying to lift her onto the bed to get her into a typical birthing position, but Kim was having none of it. "Let go of me," she roared.

Grayson walked over to the bed and took her by the hand, "Hey, they're just trying to help, Kim," he said as soothingly as he was able.

Kim snatched her hand away and glowered at him. "You don't know ANYTHING about it, Kent! Let go!"

The doctor came in then, "Hey, looks like time to have a baby!" he said cheerfully.

One of the nurses walked over to him, "Sorry, sir, but she won't get up on the bed."

The doctor strode over to Kim, "Ready to have a baby, Kim?" he asked pleasantly.

"Yes," Kim snapped. Struggling to regain composure, screaming in anger and overwhelm, she pushed away from the bed, bumping into one of the nurses, swaying on her legs.

Grayson turned around, overwhelmed by the situation. He really couldn't watch. He heard Kim screaming, the doctor answering her screams reassuringly with, "That's good, yes. Keep going. Keep doing that, Kim. That's great."

"But doctor-" one of the nurses tried to interrupt.

"She knows what she's doing," the doctor answered. "She doesn't want help. Let her push the baby out."

Kim screamed again, a loud horrifying sound, then her cry was joined by a new sound – a wail like an injured kitten. Then the tenor of Kim's voice changed, from pain and terror to a roar of exultation.

Grayson's breath caught in his throat. He wheeled around and saw Kim, standing up beside the bed. The doctor was kneeling at her feet, catching a grey, bloody mess as it came down. "Hey," the doctor said pleasantly, "want to cut the cord, dad?"

"I'm-" Grayson found himself near speechless. "I'm not-"

Kim was grinning, her face lit up with exultation, "Come on, Grayson, I dare you."

"Wow, um, no, but thank you," he responded. He was staring. He had never before seen anything so bloody, so raw, and so fantastic.

"Maybe she could do it herself," one of the nurses suggested.

Her voice suggested sarcasm, but Kim did. She bent down and cut the cord, directed by the doctor. One of the nurses wiped down her legs with a clean towel

"Now, will you lay down for us, Mama, for your baby?" the doctor asked calmly. "He wants you."

"He," she sang. "It's a boy. My baby is a boy."

Tears welled up in Grayson's eyes. He swiped at them furiously.

She consented to get into the bed. There seemed to be more work to do, and the nurses busied themselves with doing it, but first they wiped the baby down, and laid him against Kim's chest. One of the nurses helped her attach his tiny grey body to hers, so that he was already eating. They pulled the rest of the cord out of Kim but Grayson could not watch that. He walked over to the side of the bed where Kim was nursing the baby. She looked both completely exhausted and completely overjoyed.

"That was… incredible," Grayson said. "You were amazing."

Kim grinned, "Four hours. The girls in my prenatal yoga class are going to eat their hearts out."

Grayson's eyes were drawn to the tiny grey person laying on Kim's chest, "He's… wow. What else is there to say? Just wow. He's so… he's adorable. And messy. And. Wow."

Kim chuckled, "For a lawyer who's pretty damn eloquent in court, you seem to have forgotten how to talk. Haven't you ever seen a newborn before?"

"Not this new," Grayson admitted. "You know, he kind of looks like I imagine Parker would look at eighty. Only less bald."

Kim chuckled, "Thanks, Grayson, thanks for reminding me. I guess I'd better call Parker. But I want to say something to you first."

"Okay, what?"

"First, of all, I'm sorry for blindsiding you. I didn't really have this thing planned out very well. Second of all, please don't take me asking you to be my last minute birth partner as hitting on you in anyway."

"Kim, I can honestly say that that is the farthest possible thing from my mind right now."

"Good. Now that that's out of the way, this isn't hitting on you either – I'm really glad it was you here, Grayson. There's a part of me that wishes it had been you instead of Parker. You're a good guy."

"But in a totally non-hitting-on-me kind of way."

"Right, exactly. Farthest thing from my mind, too, right now, and besides I know you're stuck on Jane." She rolled her eyes. "I mean, Jane, really?"

Grayson gave her a warning look, "Don't start, Kim."

"All I'm saying is, you're a good guy, and Jane's crazy for not taking you, okay? Not that Owen doesn't have his points, but-"

"Okay, Kim. Drop it. Let's call Parker. I'll get your cell."

"Okay. Thanks, Grayson."

* * *

While Kim was dialing Parker – a conversation Grayson had no desire to be a part of – he slipped into the hallway and made a phone call of his own.

Stacy's pink phone was sitting next to her on the nightstand, and she was sitting cross-legged on the bed in her slinky red nightgown, listening to music and reading Facebook. She frowned when she heard the phone tinkling.

"Hello," she sang into the phone.

"Hey, it's me."

"Hey, weren't we supposed to be having dinner tonight?" she answered in the sweetest tone. The look on her face was sour. "You know, like at a real restaurant?"

"Stace – I'm really, really sorry. When you hear my excuse, I guarantee you will forgive me."

"Make it a good one, Grayson. 'I had to work late,' isn't going to cut it."

"Kim went into labor during court. She's a few weeks early and she had no one to stay with her – I just watched Kim give birth. It was… wow, Stacy. She was like an Amazon woman. It was disgusting and bloody and – it was amazing, Stacy. I wish you could have seen it."

Silence on the end of the line.

"Stacy? Are you mad?"

"No. I'm not mad. So it was amazing?" she asked quietly.

"Amazing, Stacy. You would have been blown away. I'll tell you more about it later, okay?"

"Promise?" she asked quietly.

"Promise. Hey, Stace, you know that thing we talked about before?"

"The um-"

"Yeah. Cancel it."

"Oh, please, Grayson. I cancelled that three days ago."

He chuckled. "Okay. I'll be home soon – an hour, maybe two, tops. Can you come over?"

"I'm already over," she said with a soft grin.


	15. Day 78 - Searching for Luis

**Evening 77**

* * *

_You found a way through all my secrets and made my proud defenses fall_

_This kind of love it knows no distance, This kind of love it knows no walls._

_This kind of love you cannot hold, this kind of love it has no shame._

_This kind of love is never old, this kind of love you cannot hold, this kind of love you cannot tame._

* * *

Lost in his dreams, Owen was being tossed back and forth by the sea, like a feverish child being rocked by his mother into endless sleep. He was again at sea, stranded between awake and asleep, lost between the shore and the threat of oblivion.

He remembered falling on the deck, the crunch of bone. He remember being pulled up by Nico and Tony. He remembered the boat nearly capsizing, the imaginary cries of children lost at sea impelling him to keep moving, to right the boat, to dive again into the monitors and instruments and find out where they were. Desperation. Realization. The three men had worked together and somehow, against all odds, found port. Not the port they were looking for, but... any port in a storm.

He remembered lifting at least three different children onto lifeboats with his one good arm. Unloading them with the help of a stranger. Calling Paul's phone with the strangers phone - his was trashed. They had all huddled in a 24 hour diner waiting for Paul to arrive with the van. When he finally arrived, there wasn't room for everyone - Owen opted to wait behind, along with Marco. Five children could sit in the two seats that Marco and Owen would have sat in.

Owen dozed off in the booth. The owner must have taken pity on him, because when he woke around 2:45, there was a blanket drooped over him.

The next bits were hazy. They had been hazy while they happened and they were even hazier in his dream state. There was a cab - he had taken it back to his car at Nora and Tony's house. By the time he got behind the wheel, he realized that he was in over his head - as if he hadn't been already - he drove slowly, one-handed, whining in pain. As he drove, the pain intensified, and with it, the realization of what had happened. The rescue. His terrible failure at navigation. Luis's sacrifice - was he dead? What about Max?

He had somehow made it back to Fred's house - crashed on the sofa - or near the sofa - and Jane was there.

...Jane was there.

Jane was there?

That must have been a part of the dream, Jane didn't know where he was, she couldn't have been there.

But, swimming to the surface of the dream, breaking free of the haze, he knew that she had been there. She had driven him here.

Where was here?

The hospital.

He tried to peel his eyes open. Jane was there. Beautiful. Asleep.

He went back under.

* * *

When we woke yet again, there were voices. Multiple voices. He couldn't identify them, so he tried to open his eyes again.

Slivers of light slammed through. It hurt.

"Owen! Are you awake?"

He tried to smile. No luck. Hopefully the attempt would count for something.

"He's awake," relief colored Jane's voice.

He opened his eyes fully. His arm was in a brace. His whole body was sore, but it was "nearly died in the ocean" sore, not "near death heart attack sore," and Owen knew which one he preferred. He sighed, a deep oxygen rich breath that he could feel from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. Then he tried to smile again and it worked this time.

"The kids-" he started.

"Um, all fine," Jane answered. "Nora has most of them at her church right now."

He smiled again, and he could feel it resonating in him. "You- how the hell did you find me, Jane?"

"I blackmailed Parker," she answered simply. There was mischief in her eyes, though, and he thought there might be a good story there. For later.

"Luis-" he started again.

"We don't know yet," another voice cut in. It was Nora. "The National Guard returned with a boatload of survivors, but not as many as must have been on the island. They're going back right now, but we just don't know. Tony and Nico... they can't take the boat out. It needs repaired."

"They can't take one of Fred's boats?"

"Not without Luis. They don't have permission to use his boats. I've been trying to get hold of him. He's not answering his phone. Maybe you can get hold of him, Owen," Nora said softly. Her voice was calm and even, but Owen could detect the concern for her missing friend underlying her tone.

"All right, sure, I'll call him, no problem," Owen nodded. "We definitely need to get out there and look-"

"Woah, woah, woah," Jane interrupted. "Um, Owen. There's no way you can go out on a boat right now.

"Jane-" he tried to sit up to argue with her. "Whew, listen, I didn't mean right now. Obviously I need to get out of this medicine fog."

"Yes, but even then - you have a fractured arm, bruised ribs, your heart-"

"Jane-"

"And you've been asleep for nearly 18-"

"JANE!" he interrupted her fiercely, but his expression was exasperated amusement.

"What?!" she laughed.

"Breathe," Owen chuckled. "I'll make a deal with you. I will... I'll charter someone else's boat - we'll hire someone else to take us out on a nice, big relaxing boat so I don't have to do any work. And you can come with me and make sure I take it easy on the island, okay?"

She tightened her mouth thoughtfully. "Well..." she smiled, "okay. That would be nice. I've never really sailed with you before. Just that one time when we were first dating."

"We're overdue. But it's not going to be much fun, Jane. The island... did Nora tell you about it?"

"A little. Not much. You can tell me about it on the way down. But first lets see what you have to do to get out of here, okay? One step at a time." Jane rested her hand lightly on his right hand, the one that wasn't fracture. He squeezed her fingers in his. "Yes, Doctor Jane."

* * *

Less than 24 hours later, they were on a boat heading toward Santa Juanita. It was, as Owen had promised a very big boat, with it's very own crew, and a very gentle motion. At least as gentle as one could hope for. Jane was unaccustomed to sailing, and she was having a little bit of a hard time. Owens friends Tony and Nico were travelling along as well, and the young man he had called Paul.

Jane thought of her Paul, the cheerful guardian angel who was currently working his shapely tush off as the Harrison-Parker intern - most of which consisted of running errands for Kim and Owen. She had snuck past him sleeping on the couch to go and find Owen. He probably would have encouraged her, but she still hadn't felt like answering questions.

And now, 48 hours after she had snuck out, she was sailing on the ocean with her wounded... what was Owen to her right now? Her friend? Her boyfriend? He said he would still want to be together after their mutual soul-searching, but was that still true?

The choppy water didn't seem to be bothering Owen at all. In fact, he seemed to come alive out on the waves in a way Jane had never seen before - or almost never, anyway. He was chatting with the captain, and she could see his eyebrows bobbing up and down, his right hands gesturing wildly and his left one slowly moving to the right and the left, trying to keep up. She imagined him trying to deliver closing in court with a broken wrist and snickered. He caught her eye then, saw her watching him and winked., still talking. He gestured for her to come over. She stood up slowly, holding onto the railing to get her bearing, then swayed over to him with a half-smile. "Having fun?" she asked.

"Well..." he shrugged. "I don't know about fun. The destination is weighing on me pretty heavily. But it's a really nice boat and Captain Jack here," he gestured to the seaman, "really knows what he's doing. He's giving me some pointers."

"That's nice," Jane smiled.

"Jack," Owen gestured to Jane, "I didn't really get a chance to introduce you two yet. This is Jane, my..." he hesitated. "My girlfriend." He smiled emotionlessly but he nodded, and Jane nodded, too. Girlfriend was a good place to start back from. He put his good arm around her shoulder for just a moment and it felt good. Really, really good.

* * *

Finally they arrived at a flat stretch of land. If Jane hadn't been looking for it, she might not have noticed until they actually docked.

They disembarked at a shabby looking wooden pier. It looked as though it had taken a beating, but Jane couldn't tell if that was because of the storm or how the dock had been to begin with. The captain jumped out of the boat first, and Owen helped him steer the boat to the edge of the pier. They worked together to pull down a set of stairs. Jane and the rest of the crew followed.

Looking around now, Jane was overwhelmed. The island was littered - it basically looked like a large junkyard. She could make out colorful pieces of cloth that might have once been the tents Owen described, and large and small pieces of scrap metal. There was wood everywhere, some that looked like painted planks and some that looked like downed branches.

While the others began to fan out, Jane stood back . She walked toward Owen and looked up at him. "What should I do?" she asked.

He held his right hand out to her, "We'll walk together. We're just going to look for survivors. Mainly Luis, to be honest. If he got off the island, even if he got lost, he'd have called his family by now. Nora thinks maybe he got stuck here."

She squeezed his hand. "Is it okay if we walk slowly?"

He smiled sadly. "I'm tired. My ribs hurt like hell. I can't move my wrist in this cast. And you," he chuckled, "are not exactly dressed for a rescue. So slowly is about as good as we are going to get."

"Any idea where to start?"

"Well, my theory is the middle of the island. If he were close to the edge, I don't think he would have made it. So I think we'll start in the trees. And Jane-"

"Yes, Owen?"

"We have a lot to talk about. I know that. I'm not putting you on hold, okay?"

"This," she squeezed his hand again, "is good enough for now."


	16. Day 78, Elsewhere

**Day 78, Elsewhere**

* * *

_I remember tears streaming down your face_  
_When I said, "I'll never let you go"_  
_When all those shadows almost killed your light_  
_I remember you said, "Don't leave me here alone"_

* * *

On the seventh floor of a modestly sized hospital in L.A., Kim Kaswell was examining her son.

He was ugly and small, wrinkly, angry-looking, and yellowish. He took her breath away with his gorgeousness, his tiny details. His toes were fascinating and his little fingers were worth thinking about for at least ten minutes or so. He reminded her of her father - was she projecting because she had decided to name his Lawrence, or did he have Larry Kaswell's eyebrows? She kissed his head and then she kissed it again. She made him promises. She imagined buying him Christmas gifts. She was picturing what their life would be like - difficult but beautiful. For the first time in Kim's life, her heart was full.

* * *

While Kim was laying in a hospital bed, holding her son in both arms, contemplating his perfect nose and his tiny blue eyes, Paul was laying on the couch in Jane's apartment, smiling.

He figured Jane had finally made her choice. She had left him a note explaining that she had gone to find Owen. So Paul wondered how much longer they would let him stay. Would they keep him here indefinitely or would they decide that Jane had all the guardian she needed in the man Owen? There was so much left to do on Earth for Paul - surfing, hiking the Appalachian trail, vising Tibet, finding out for himself what the capital of New Zealand was. He wasn't ready to go. Maybe he could talk his supervisor into letting him stay longer. Jane might still need some help. Or maybe he could be reassigned. To someone in New Zealand, maybe. He wondered whether there would be time to go to Disneyland first, and if he could find someone to go with him.

He just didn't want to go back to gate duty.

* * *

While Paul was laying on the couch in Jane's apartment, counting the spots on the ceiling and wondering how long he could stay, Stacy was at Grayson's apartment, crying in pain on the bathroom floor.

She was bleeding, and she knew it was not a good thing. She had been only nine weeks pregnant. But there was a lot of blood, for all that, and there was a lot of sadness and anger pouring out of her, too. The saddest thought kept repeating itself in her head: _she hadn't even gotten to tell Jane yet_. And if she hadn't gotten to tell Jane, it was almost as if the whole thing had never happened at all. But it had, _it had_, and now it was gone. She wondered how hard it would be to start over and if there was something wrong with her body or if she had done something wrong and if she even deserved to be a mother. And she cried.

* * *

While Stacy was grieving and waiting for Grayson to rush back and take her to the hospital, Owen and Jane were walking together through the wreckage of Santa Juanita.

They hadn't unlocked their fingers yet, although both of their palms were sweating and uncomfortable. Every now and then one would catch the other looking at them out of the corner of their eye, then turn away and smile. For a rescue mission, it was becoming rather sweet.

Jane's ankles were weakening, and she wished that she had worn jeans or khakis or something with a little substance to it instead of a sundress, but Owen kept thinking how cute she was tripping through the debris; peering around for a sign of something. He was having a hard time staying on his somber task. It was part of being human, he supposed, this ability to capsulize fear and frustration and put it aside, distracted by a pretty face and a colorful dress fluttering in the breeze, catching on enticing curves. He caught Jane's eye on him again and he smiled, all the way this time. He could feel the smile reaching all the way to his eyes. God, he was glad she was here. He wondered again how she had gotten here and why, but put it aside for the twentieth time. There would be a change to talk soon. She smiled back at him.

* * *

While Jane and Owen were walking around Santa Juanita, Luis was laying underneath a large piece of heavy metal.

His ankle was twisted and he had worn his voice out from yelling when the National Guard was evacuating the island. He was starting to dehydrate. He had drank some of the nasty rain water yesterday, but today it was dried up. He was hungry. He heard the voices, though, and he was trying to muster up the strength to do something, anything, to get their attention.

"Owen," he croaked.

* * *

While Luis was struggling for life out on Santa Juanita, Nora was kneeling before a statue of the Blessed Mother in the church in Dana Point.

She was praying the rosary - in Latin, no less. She doubted the Blessed Mother really cared what language she was prayed to in, or even if Nora used actual words to pray, but it made her feel holy and it helped her pay attention. She prayed the sorrowful mysteries, feeling the suffering of Jesus in her bones and praying that Luis would unite his suffering with Christ as well. She believed with her whole heart that Luis was alive, and that Owen or Nico would find him and he would be home very soon.

* * *

While Nora was kneeling before the statue of the Blessed Mother and praying through the sufferings of Christ, Nicquito was playing out in the sun.

He was doing soms serious excavation work with die cast metal construction trucks is a pile of dirt just outside the chapel window, where Nora could see him and make sure he did not wander off. The sun was shining through a gorgeous blue sky and he lifted his sparkling brown eyes to take it in. Something caught his glance - it might have been a bird or it might have been the flutter of an angel's wing. He clapped his little hands together and shouted with joy. In his own way, Nicquito was praying for his great-uncle, too.

* * *

While Nicquito was getting dirt under his fingernails, Jane was getting dirt in between her toes, all over her face, and even in her ears. She was itchy and too warm, but also somehow not quite warm enough. She could hear the birds flying back and forth between the trees, the wind yawning through the sky. Though the waves drowned out most of the other ambient sounds, she could hear-

-a voice, she could hear a voice.

"Owen, did you hear that?"

"Hear what, sweetheart?"

She dropped to her knees and tilted her head to the ground. "I heard a voice go, 'Owen.' I think. Maybe?"

"Oh my God," Owen answered. He was still standing, but he was staring two feet to the right of Jane - there was an arm poking up out of the wreckage.

* * *

The next forty minutes passed in what felt like two. The sheet metal was held against a hidden human body by a pile of wood and debris too heavy for Owen to lift one-handed and too awkward for Jane to lift without his help. They shouted for help and soon the whole party was around them. They pulled away the heavy objects. It was indeed Luis. He looked sick and miserable and only God knew what kind of internal injuries he had, so Owen called 911 and asked for an airlift, giving precise coordinates. The helicopter arrived fairly quickly, making Jane wonder why they hadn't just sent a team of helicopters in to evacuate the island ahead of time. She stored that question away to ask later.

"Owen," the old man croaked. "I knew you would find me, my friend."

"All right, no talking," Owen said firmly. "Lay still and we're going to get you to a hospital.

"The children-"Luis started.

"Everybody's fine," Owen answered. "No talking."

"Jane-" Luis said.

"I'm still here," she said.

"_Gracias_, Jane," Luis whispered.

"_De nada_," she answered.

When the helicopter had pulled away, the rescue party when back to searching. Owen had asked Luis if there was anyone else, but he said there wasn't. They had been looking for Luis explicitly, but there was still a chance that there were others on the island. Owen wasn't sure how lucid Luis had actually been. They could get a full story later, when he recovered.

"Hey," Owen said suddenly. He looked over at Jane quizzically. "How did Luis know who you were?"

"Why?" Jane hesitated. "Did you not tell him about me?"

"I did. In depth-"

"Ouch," Jane commented.

"No, not bad - just - I mean, I told him how gorgeous you were, of course," he winked at her.

"But..." Jane prompted.

"Well, I never showed him a picture."

"I see." She wasn't saying much, but the look on her face wasn't curiosity but confusion.

"Have you met him before?" Owen asked.

"No..." she trailed off.

Owen was studying her face now. "Okay..."

"Oh, all right..." Jane rolled her eyes. "I saw him... in the hospital."

"What? When?"

Jane let out a breath. "Yesterday, while you were asleep."

Owen looked at her.

"Yes, I know, he was here. I didn't know that then. He introduced himself, and he said he had a message from me. He gave me some advice about life, and about love, and then he asked me for a favor."

"A favor?"

"He said Owen was going to - you were going to - ask for something, and I should let you do it. I thought he meant... like you would want to move away or something, but I guess it turns out, what he meant was you were going to come find him. If I hadn't... If we hadn't..."

"I wouldn't have let you stop me," Owen said softly. "I needed to find him, Jane. But I don't understand. Was this a dream?"

"It wasn't a dream. I know dreams. I've had some doozies. He just came into the hospital and sat down in the chair. He was wearing jeans, a black shirt, and a clerical collar, so I just figured he worked for the hospital."

"A clerical collar? Luis doesn't wear a clerical collar. He's not a-" Owen hesitated.

"He's not a priest?" Jane asked. Now she looked curious.

"Hey, Paul!" Owen called the young man over. "Hey, Paul, is Luis a priest?"

The teenager looked tired, but Owen could tell he was very happy they had found Luis. Paul chuckled. "Is _Padre Luis_ a priest?" he restated the question.

Owen closed his eyes and laughed, "I just thought everybody looked up at him. But he said he'd married his fair share of women..." he trailed off again. "Oh, I get it now."

Jane snorted. "That's funny."

Owen rolled his eyes. "Yeah, it's funny now."

"You didn't think it was strange when he said he was going to stay on the island and give the people absolution?" Paul asked.

Owen frowned. "How did you know about that?"

Paul blushed. "Oh. He told me ahead of time that he was going to stay if the National Guard hadn't arrived yet."

"Ouch, dude. I feel kind of set up," Owen shook his head, "I'm not sure I would have gone along if I knew Luis was planning a suicide attempt."

"Sorry, Owen. I wasn't supposed to be repeating that. He knew you wouldn't understand."

"Damn right I didn't understand. I still don't. If the National Guard rescued everyone, why was Luis left behind? And why hasn't Max been in contact?"

Paul shrugged. "I guess that's why we're still looking, but I don't think we're going to find anything else. You know what we haven't found yet?

"No, what?" Owen asked.

"Max's boat."


	17. Night 78 - S'mores on the Beach

**Night 78**

* * *

_And it always blows me away, by the power that you hold_  
_When the moment kicks in, and the magic unfolds_  
_And you wrap your love around me and it brings me to my knees_  
_Will you give me strength, all the strength that I need_

* * *

They searched another two very long hours on the island and found nothing and no one. They talked about cleaning up the debris, but no one was sure how or even why. So when Owen got an urgent text to call Parker, no one was particularly reluctant to leave the island. The trip back was uneventful. Luis's family headed to the hospital - Owen felt it was right to give them privacy until they had a better idea of his condition. Jane drove back to the beach house.

Once they arrived, Owen called Parker. It was a short call.

"Jane, excellent news. Kim went into labor yesterday - her water broke while she was delivering closing," Owen laughed joyfully.

"Oh my God, really?"

"Really. Gave birth a few hours later to a boy."

"That's amazing!"

"If we head home tonight, we can get up in the morning and go visit her, be back to work by noon. I have a feeling Parker is going to need us.

"Wow. I am so not ready to get home yet," Jane admitted. "Do you think it would be all right to leave tomorrow morning instead?"

Though they had to get up very early the next day to return to work, neither Jane nor Owen wanted to leave tonight or to go to bed yet. Owen decided to build another beach bonfire. He thought it would be fun to roast s'mores with Jane.

After building the fire, and enjoy gooey treats together, Owen sat down on the ground and rested against a massive log. It had been a very, very long day and his whole body hurt. He didn't really want to go back to work at all. Jane was wearing a fresh pair of slacks and a dark blouse with a pink shawl over her shoulders. Her hair was still wet from her shower. She was standing in front of the fire rubbing her hands together, not saying much.

"Jane." He smiled at her. "Come here," he said, patting the ground in front of him.

Jane walked over to him, smiled and dropped herself into the sand next to him.

"Closer," he growled.

She laughed and blushed, scrambling on her knees over to him, then resting right in front of him, so she could almost lean forward and touch her nose to his. "Better?"

"No," he grinned and placed his good hand on her waist. "Come _here_." He pulled her closely - he couldn't really pull her with a bad wrist, but she got the idea and shuffled closer to him, so each leg was on the outside of his and she was in his lap. She rested her weight more on her knees, so as not to exacerbate his bruises. but the intimacy took her breath away and she swallowed as the blood rushed to her face. it had been nearly two years since they'd first met but she still wasn't used to this kind of feeling in this body - was it possible that it felt better than it did when she was younger and skinnier? Certainly she felt no less desirable at this moment than she did when she was Deb.

In their current position, she was almost as tall as he was, but still not quite. He laid his face against the curve of her neck and she wrapped her arms around his head, held him there. "Jane," he murmured. "God, I missed you."

She smiled warmly. "I can tell," she purred.

"I - I want to say something to you. I need to apologize," he started.

"Owen, you have nothing to apologize for-"

"Stop, Jane. Just let me say it, okay?"

"Sorry," she said, mollified.

"I have been thinking - a LOT - over the last few weeks. About you, about me, about that damned Grayson, about the wedding."

"Owen, I am so-"

"Jane, you already apologized. If you ever had anything to apologize for to begin with, which is questionable, it's forgiven."

She smiled a little. "Okay."

"And like I said before I left, if anything happened while I was gone, I don't want to know. I'm assuming the fact that you're here is a good thing... I want it to be a good thing..."

"It's a good thing," she answered.

"Okay, so like I said, I want to apologize for two things. First of all, and this is kind of a big thing, so hear me out. I fell in love with you two years ago - head over heels."

"I hope you're not going to apologize for that, Owen," she chuckled.

"No," he lifted his head and smiled down at her. "No, that was great. I just knew from the first moment I saw you that you were special. You were so gorgeous and so smart,"

"Were?" she corrected, grinning viciously, lifting an eyebrow in mock-dismay.

"_Are_," he laughed. "_Are_ so gorgeous, and you blew me away in the courtroom, Jane. You know that when I met you, I was a very busy man. I sailed, I hosted parties, I went to parties, I read like mad. I had a new courtroom, a new apartment, a new lease on life. And then you swept in and I thought, this, this is going to be the cherry on top of an already perfect life.

"And you were. Everything you touched just blossomed, including me. So..." he buried his face in her neck again, "I threw everything else away. I worshipped you. Jane. I wanted you to be my everything. I stopped going to parties, I spent all my time with you."

"That's not really a bad thing is it, Owen? Are you apologizing for loving me too much?"

"No, no, Jane, see it wasn't that I loved you too much. I created this image of you in my head, and I worshiped it, does that make sense? I needed you to be my everything. You were the one that made me feel good, the one that made me feel strong. So when I saw you kissing Grayson, it wasn't just my image of you that changed, it was my image of myself. If you didn't measure up to who I thought you were, then my life suddenly had no meaning."

"Oh, I see."

"So I want to apologize, not for loving you too much,Jane, never for that. For loving you conditionally. For taking my meaning from you instead of having my own meaning for myself. Christ, I gave up my courtroom for you. That was crazy."

Jane chuckled throatily, "That was kind of crazy."

"When we go home again - I'm going to quit Harrison & Parker. I'm going to see if I can be re-appointed, and if I can't..."

"If you can't?"

He shrugged, "If I can't I'll do something else." He wrapped his arm around her again and pulled her closer to him. "I have ideas. I might try for a lower court. It'll be less pay and less prestige, but I can make some real differences on a smaller scale. Or I might stick with being a lawyer, but go work for a non-profit. Luis showed me... just how privileged people like us are, Jane. Maybe it was for a reason, who knows? And maybe - maybe I'll find something a little less stress, so I can spend more time at home with you and-" he touched her belly, just for a second, "and our child. Jane, I haven't been able to stop thinking about our child for the last two days, while I was sailing, while I was rounding up the children on the island, while I was dreaming- how are you both? is everything OK? have you been sick?"

Jane shrugged. "Not really. I'm starting the second trimester now, and I really never got too nauseous. I can smell everything, though, it's bizarre."

He chuckled, "Can you smell me?"

Jane laughed, "If you mean, do I think you should shower before bed and then AGAIN before we leave tomorrow, then yes!"

He laughed, too, and then he kissed her, slowly and gently. Jane felt her whole body responding to the kiss.

"Are you uncomfortable?" he asked, pulling away finally.

"A little. Chilly, too. Want to go inside?"

"Okay," he nodded. "I'll put the fire out, you go in and make us some hot cocoa, okay? There are mugs above the sink and there's a Keurig with cocoa pods."

"Ooh, how convenient," she cooed. He grinned and nodded.

* * *

Inside, they sat on the couch, she curled up against him, sitting quietly. They left the television off and just sipped at their cocoa for awhile.

"There's something else I want to apologize for," he said finally.

"Okay, what?" she smiled at him encouragingly.

"When you were back there - at our wedding - I should have been the one to go find you."

"No. No way, Owen. No one would have expected you to go and find me. Teri, maybe, or Stacy or my mom, but not you."

"I know. But once I saw Grayson leaving, I should have been right there. I should have been right at his heels. See, Jane, I knew that Grayson was in love with you. I had ribbed him about it before. I was arrogant about it. I told him I was the winner and he wasn't. This is really - I'm really sorry, Jane. I wanted him to go back and see you, I wanted him to finally understand that you loved me and not him."

"Ouch," Jane said softly.

"And then I finally didn't want to wait anymore. Before I even got back there I was suspicious. I was all set to crucify him. And then I saw you,' he closed his eyes and sighed, "I saw you kissing him and I went berserk. If I hadn't - If I hadn't assumed the worst, I mean, I could have at least let you explain. For all I knew, you were about to push him away- no, I know, Jane, you don't have to say it. I know you weren't. But I didn't know that then, do you know what I mean? I'm sorry for being a jerk, yet again. I'm sorry for assuming the worst, I'm sorry for making a difficult situation more difficult. I want to be a good husband and a good father, more like he-"

"Owen," Jane said sweetly.

"Yes, Jane?"

"Are you done beating yourself up now?"

"Hmmm..." he thought for a moment. "Yes. I think I am."

"Great," she put her hand on the back of his head and pulled him down to her face. She kissed him hard and she could feel the tension melt out of him.

"Okay," he breathed. "Okay. Fair enough. I love you, too, Jane." He wrapped his right arm around her shoulder and squeezed it. She laid her head against his chest for a moment. He smiled. "If we're going to sleep at all tonight, I'd better go get that shower."

Not much later, they slept next to each other in Fred's big bed. Jane passed out immediately, laying on her side, her hand resting on Owen's shoulder. Ocean air and strenuous activity where the best possible sleeping pill.

Owen lay awake for hours, wondering about Luis's health, what happened to Max's boat, what would happen to the children, and whether he could really be a good father.


	18. Day 79 - Meeting Lawrence Jay Kaswell

**Day 79**

* * *

_If these walls came crumblin' down_  
_Fell so hard, to make us lose our faith_  
_From what's left you'd figure it out_  
_Still make lemonade taste like a sunny day_

* * *

They woke before dawn and Owen decided that yes, he would take that shower. It was a short one, though, and soon he was walking his luggage outside one piece at a time. The morning air was crisp and cool against his damp skin. He lifted his head up and let the wind blow through his hair. It sent chills down his back.

He walked toward his car and popped the trunk. He pulled out his briefcase, his fall jacket, and his duffel bag. Jane was driving them both home, and she would send Harrison-Parker's only intern down to Dana Point by bus to pick up his car. She seemed wickedly delighted by the thought of sending the poor intern on such a task. Owen wasn't thrilled about the idea of a college student driving his car home, but he was well-insured for a guest driver and not particularly attached to the car, even after living out of it for almost three weeks.

He was attached to living right on the ocean, though. He didn't like the idea of driving inland, even knowing that the beach was only a short drive from home. He felt that he had found a piece of himself here that had been lost, and he was afraid it would disappear again if he left the shoreline.

Jane must have sensed this, because she came outside then and slipped her arm around his waist from behind.

"Hey," he greeted her. "Good morning. Ready to go home?"

"Not really," she admitted. "Promise me we'll come back soon - if not to this exact house, somewhere like it. It's nice here."

"I'll have to come back soon. Too many loose ends. I haven't even heard how Luis is yet. I feel terrible leaving like this, but I did promise Parker."

"L.A.'s not that far from here, Owen. We'll call the hospital as soon as we get back."

He nodded. "Yeah. We can always zip back here if we need to."

"And," she smiled and put her hand on top of his, "if you need to zip back, I promise, I will zip with you."

He chuckled, "All right, that's settled, then. Let's get moving. I'd like to beat traffic. I've got all my stuff packed and ready to put in your trunk."

"Okay," she smiled. "Let's go meet Kim's baby and find out if the firm collapsed without us."

Owen frowned. "Back to civilization." He definitely wasn't thrilled about the idea.

* * *

They arrived at the hospital around 10:30 and traveled together up the elevator. Kim's room was easy to find. They had to walk through three different sets of security doors and show ID. At last, Kim buzzed them in. The private maternity room was small but neat and hospitable.

"Bingum and French, at last!" she exclaimed. "Did you come to rescue me? We are so ready to get out of this place!"

"_We_?" Jane asked.

"Yeah... come over and meet the little man," Kim clarified.

They walked over to the bed, and on the far side there was a plastic crib and a tiny baby sleeping tucked into the blanket there. He was swaddled in a pink and teal hospital blanket and wearing a knitted blue cap. Only his pink face was showing.

Jane sucked in a breath. "Oh my God, Kim. He's _so_ beautiful."

"I know, right?" Kim grinned proudly.

"And what did we name the little guy?" Owen asked.

"His name," Kim smiled evilly, "is Lawrence Jay Kaswell."

"Lawrence Jay?" Jane let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh, "You named him after your father and Parker?"

"Jane!" Owen tried to hush her.

"It's okay, Owen. Yes, I did, I named him after my father and his father. My dad has actually been wonderful about everything. He flew in as soon as I went into labor and he's going to be staying with me during my maternity leave. He even wants to help me find a good day care."

"I totally get that," Jane said. "And that's really sweet. But... Jay?"

"Mmhmmm. Listen, everybody knows this is Parker's baby. He may be flying right back to Toronto when I get back to the firm, but I decided he _will_ be paying child support, and every time he writes a birthday card, I want him to remember that he left us behind."

"Ouch," Owen said.

"Sorry. I realize how bitter that sounds. I'm still pretty angry."

Jane nodded sympathetically, "I totally understand. But, listen, we are here for you. Anything you need, just let us know."

The door creaked open and a tall, dark figure poked his head in. "Hey, good morning, guys! Great to see you," Grayson's sudden greeting was a bit much, a bit forced, but Jane appreciated the words all the same.

"Grayson," she glowed at him. "So good to see you." He half-smiled, but he looked terrible. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he wore a wrinkled t-shirt and jeans. His hair was a mess. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, fine. I just came to see how Kim was doing."

"They're checking Lawrence and me out soon. I'm fine, Grayson. You could have stayed with your friend."

"I'm just going to go have breakfast and run home for a shower. She's asleep. They'll probably check her out soon, too, anyway."

Jane furrowed her brow. "Who? What's going on, Grayson?"

"Oh..." he looked at Jane, "Stacy's here at the hospital. One floor down. You might want to stop in and see her. She wanted you last night, but I couldn't get hold of you. Teri said you ran off."

"What's wrong with Stacy?" Jane sounded borderline frantic.

Owen grabbed her hand and squeezed her fingers reassuringly. Grayson's eyes went right to their hands. Owen frowned at him but Grayson just looked away.

He shook his head, "Honestly, Jane, I think she'd rather tell you herself."

"Is something wrong?"

"She's going to be fine, but she's pretty upset. Just go see her, okay?" He pressed his lips together. "Maybe by yourself?" He nodded at Owen and left, then, giving Kim a cursory wave.

"Sorry about that," Kim said. "He actually stayed for my labor and delivery. He's probably sick of this place by now."

"Wow, Grayson stayed for your labor?" Jane sounded surprised. "Anyway, it's fine," she said. "You said you were getting out of here today?"

"That's the plan," Kim shrugged. "My dad will be back soon and he'll be driving me home. Maybe you guys can come see us at home later this week?"

Owen smiled, "We'd love to. Jane, if you don't mind, I'm going to take a taxi to the office and you can go visit Stacy; see if she's okay. I'll catch you at the office later, okay?"

"Okay," she smiled at him and turned to go. "Walk through security with me?"

He offered her the crook of his arm, "My honor."

They walked toward the elevators together. Owen reached out to push the arrow down. Then he dropped his hand and turned to her.

"Jane..." He trailed off and stared hard at her.

"Yes, Owen?" she asked coquettishly, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

"Nothing. Never mind." He pressed the button and they waited for one of the four elevators to arrive. It took forever.

Finally, one of the lights landed on their floor and they walked into the empty elevator. Jane pressed the button for the floor right below theirs. Owen pressed the big G with a star by it that indicated the ground floor.

The doors closed and the elevator started to move, but as soon as it did, Owen pulled the little red lever that indicated "STOP."

"Owen?" Jane looked at him startled. It wasn't completely out of character for him to stop a moving elevator, but the last time he had done so it was to show her a terrifying surgical scar.

He chuckled deep in his throat. "I-I'm sorry. I'm just not ready to let you go yet. If we go down this elevator, we split up, and I go back to work and don't see you for - oh, probably hours." He stepped closer to her, so she was backed into the corner of the elevator.

"Oh," she said, softly smiling. "Well, I missed you, too."

"I don't think you quite understand," he responded quietly. He was not smiling. He ducked down and kissed her then, pressing his lips to hers.

This was not a gentle kiss, but an aching kiss, a wanting kiss. Jane was drawn in by the minty, spicy smell of his aftershave. She imagined she could still smell the sand and the surf he had lived in for the past few weeks. Her lips trembled under the movement of his mouth; she pressed her hands into his back and pulled herself closer against him, responding warmly. Blood rushed to her head, spilling down through her body so that she was completely flush and full of joy. His sudden passion reminded her of the strength he had to face the storm and his brokenness afterward... if she had ever been unsure that she loved him, she couldn't be now.

Finally, their lips parted with a soft exchange of breath, and Owen stepped backward reluctantly. He looked her hard in the eye and grinned wolfishly. "There, now that should last a few hours... when you're back at work again... I'll probably already be buried in a case... and then you'll step into the office and Teri will bombard you with all the things you've neglected in the past 72 hours. But when I see you... and when you see me... you'll know I'll be thinking about this... and about us... maybe imagining us back at the beach, huh?" His voice was low but charged with intensity and his eyes were lit up.

She grinned. Her cheeks were as red as he had intended and she swayed a little on her feet. "Maybe we'll go back this weekend?"

"Or tonight, Jane. Who knows." He released her and slammed the elevator button in with his fist without looking at it.

The elevator started moving and was on Jane's floor before she had even regained her composure. "Bye, Owen," she said softly and exited the elevator.

When the doors closed behind her, Owen leaned back against the elevator wall, threw his head back against the wall and let out a slow, heavy breath. Now _really_ back to civilization

* * *

Compared to the maternity ward, there was no security on the sixth floor. There were whispered voices and muffled beeping, and a large round desk in the middle of it all. Jane inquired at the desk and was directed to a room all the way back the third hallway.

Still reeling from the kiss, but quickly sobering up at the prospect of seeing Stacy and wondering what was wrong, she tapped lightly on the door.

"Come in." It was Stacy's voice, but lower, as though weighed down with sadness or sickness.

Jane poked her head around the door.

"Oh my God, Jane!" Stacy looked worse than Jane had feared. If possible, she seemed thinner. Her eyes were bloodshot and there were huge purple shadows under underneath them. She was wearing a pink spotted hospital gown. Jane realised she had never seen Stacy sick before.

"Stacy! What's wrong, Stace?"

"Grayson didn't tell you?" she asked.

"Grayson? No, he didn't tell me anything. What's going on?"

"I-" Stacy swallowed and choked the words out, "I had a miscarriage, Jane."

"Oh my God!" Jane ran over to Stacy and sat on the edge of her bed. She took her friends hands in hers. "How - oh my God, Stacy, I didn't even know you had gotten pregnant!"

"I-" Stacy was crying, but her voice was so tired Jane assumed she had been crying for some time. "I've been trying to tell you but I just couldn't. I asked Grayson to help me, to help me have a baby, and he did. I guess... I guess he didn't realize it would happen so fast, but it did."

Jane frowned, trying to process. "You've been - you've been- with Grayson, wow-"

"Oh, please don't be mad, Jane. I know I deserve it. But you've been so broken up over the wedding, that I really, really thought you were over Grayson. It was kind of too late by the time I realized you still wanted to make it work with him. I'm so sorry."

"You know what? Forget that, Stace. Just completely forget about it. Farthest possible thing from my mind right now. What I care about is, are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay," she answered slowly. "I lost the baby last night. I wasn't even in the second trimester yet. The doctor says there's nothing they could have done, that it was a fluke, that it just happened, that it wasn't my fault..."

"Of course it wasn't your fault, Stacy! Did you think it was?"

"I kind of still think it was." Stacy answered. "I was stupid to think I could be a good mom."

"That's crazy talk, Stacy. I mean, hello, you've been the best mother our goldfish _ever_ had."

"I'm not joking around, Jane."

"I'm sorry, Stace."

Just then, a woman walked in. She was a tough-looking woman in her fifties wearing a lab coat. Jane presumed she was the doctor. "Ms. Barrett?"

"Yes?"

"I'm here to release you. Is this a friend who can take you home?"

"Yes, I'm Stacey's roommate," Jane replied.

"Good," the doctor rounded on her. "She needs to rest. She needs to tell us if the bleeding gets worse. She needs to tell us if the depression get worse. She's going to be sad. She might need help from her friends. I need you to promise me you're going to keep an eye on her."

"Wow." Jane nodded seriously. "Okay. I promise."

"Good girl," the doctor answered. "I don't mind being called for any of those reasons. Stacy." She turned back to the blonde in the bed.

"Yes," Stacy answered.

"There's nothing indicating you can't get pregnant again. At this point, there doesn't appear to be anything wrong. I want you to come back in a few weeks for some standard tests and like I said to Jane, get a lot of rest."

"That won't be a problem. I feel like I could sleep for a week."

"Make sure she eats and drinks, too," the doctor said, turning again to Jane.

"Yes,_ sir_," Jane answered crisply.

The female doctor raised her eyebrow but ignored Jane's remark. "I'm going to go write up some papers and then we'll get you girls on your way. Be nice to each other."

"Always," the girls responded simultaneously. Jane looked at her friend and smiled.

Now would probably not be the time to tell Stacy she was pregnant.


	19. Day 79, Grayson Brings Chinese

**Day 79, continued**

* * *

_You swore and said, "We are not, We are not shining stars."_

_This I know. I never said we are._

_Though I've never been through hell like that_

_I've closed enough windows to know you can never look back._

* * *

Stacy was baking again. She felt stupid baking now that she had sold the Pakery. She felt as though she had failed at it. When she shared that feeling with Jane, Jane had laughed and said she wished some of her failures could have been so profitable.

But that was easy for Jane to say. Five years ago Jane had been Deb – struggling model slash actress just like Stacy. Then a freak accident had changed Deb into Jane, super-successful lawyer slash awesome. Okay, granted, now Jane was now plus sized and had been working alongside the love of her former life for five years, but still. In Stacy's view, Jane had it good. She'd even had two men fighting over her for the last year, though she never really saw it that way. She'd skipped law school, skipped paying her dues in any profession – well, okay she had been halfway through paying her dues in modeling when she'd died – and just jumped straight to Wonder Woman.

Stacy sat up and shook herself. She knew she was capable of straddling the line between a good friend and a hateful bitch. She'd walked down the dark path before. The most recent example had been when she finally scored a starring role on a television show. She'd cheated on her boyfriend – what was his name? – and insulted and took for granted all of her other friends. It took losing practically everything to snap her out of that particular funk.

What would it take to snap her out of this one? She had already lost everything.

There was a tall bottle of white wine on the kitchen bar, and Stacy had already drunk a solid third of it. She doubted wine was the recommended antidepressant for this situation, but it was readily available without a prescription. Jane had gone straight to work after dropping her at home. Jane had been sympathetic but distracted. Stacy suspected she wanted to get back to Owen. Even while trying very hard to listen to Stacy's story and offer sympathy, Jane had mentioned Owen at least four times. He had been staying at a beach house. He was injured – something about a storm and saving children. Wonder Woman had her Superman.

Stacy knew Wonder Woman and Superman weren't really a pair, but she liked the metaphor, so she said it to herself a couple of times until it sounded true.

She made three dozen chocolate chip cookies, then started in on a few pakes. She made some of her favorites. She baked until she ran out of flour. Once that was done, she ran blistering hot soapy water and washed every single dish by hand. The water was so hot that her hands were red by the time she was done.

She looked at the clock and it was only 4:00pm. Jane wouldn't be home for hours still.

Would Grayson come over at all? Would be able to look at her in this state? Would he work late to make up for the time spent at the hospital?

Stacy sat down on the couch and clicked the television. Nothing looked interesting. Not even remotely. She dialed down to a soap opera and stared at it for a while. The words wouldn't penetrate her brain, so she didn't bother thinking about them, just let her brain hear each word and then discard it. Eventually, she had no idea how much later, she fell asleep that way.

* * *

Owen was sitting at the enormous desk in his office when Jay Parker walked in. The man was tall and always wore a confident smirk, but he couldn't outsmirk Owen French. Luckily, the men liked each other well enough. If they were ever on opposing sides, it would be a formidable battle of ego.

"Parker!"

"French! Glad to see you. Thank you for coming back right away. I'm sure I could have handled it, but I'm glad I don't have to."

Owen stood up and offered the other man his hand. "Congratulations on the birth of your son. Have you been down to see him yet?"

Parker nodded. "Lawrence Jay Kaswell. A good-looking kid. Seven years ago if you would have told me my son would be a Kaswell I would have laughed you into the ground." He shook his head.

"Life's crazy that way," Owen said, shrugging philosophically.

"Life's a bitch, Owen. A fickle, fickle bitch. But, hey, we don't actually have to talk about this, do we?"

"We do not, sir. There is plenty of work here for us to do. Shall we talk current cases or the state of the books?"

"Well, we'll have to do books, but first-"

Just then Jane arrived. Owen heard the ding of the elevator – he had heard it ring every single time it chimed since he arrived and his eyes went right to his windows every time to see if she would walk by. But this time she did. He saw her walking by as though in slow motion. She was wearing a short black skirt underneath a pink trench coat that accentuated her hourglass silhouette. She was wearing her hair down loose around her shoulders.

She caught his stare as she bounced by toward her own office. As soon as she saw him, her face softened and she smiled. He winked at her.

"Hello- Owen?" Parker was snapping his fingers at him.

"Sorry, Parker. Still not all the way off of vacation, I'm afraid." Owen smiled sheepishly.

The other man turned around and caught the back of Jane's walk. "Ah. I see. I – um," he chuckled. "I guess it was okay that I ended up giving her your address, then? She can be pretty persistent."

"I wasn't sure what way it was going to go," Owen answered. "The fact that she talked you into giving her the address – it's a good thing." He smiled. "A very good thing."

"Can I give you some advice?"

Owen cocked his eyebrow incredulously. The man standing in front of his desk was younger, had less legal experience, and had countless failed relationships. "Sure," Owen conceded.

"I don't know what happened at that wedding – I really don't want to know. But here I am with a nine year old son and a brand new one, and you know what's killing me?"

Owen shrugged. _Probably a lot._ "What?"

"No matter what I do, no matter what I try, no matter what path I go down, I can't be a father to both of my children. When I started dating Kim, I had completely forgotten about Elisa. Ancient history... and then I met Eric. Found out that I had missed out on eight years of being a dad."

Owen frowned. _Had Jane told Parker about the baby?_

"And then Elisa left, and Kim told me she was pregnant and I was over the moon. But when an opportunity opened itself for me to be a dad to Eric - a full time dad to the little guy - how could I say no? I had to choose - fix the situation that was already broken or start over with a new one that I might be able to ace. Now all I can do is hope that financial support will be enough. Hope that somebody else steps up to be a dad to... to little Lawrence."

Owen shook his head. "Yeah, that's a shame, Parker. Why not move Elisa and Eric back here?"

"I tried. Christ, I tried. Elisa won't have it. She's afraid if I move back here I'll be tempted to fall back in with Kim. And she's right, I would. There's no way I could be in both of their lives and still be a good guy to one of them. It's impossible for me. It's hard enough far away, to be honest."

"Sorry to hear that, Parker," Owen said.

"Here I am talking about it again, huh?"

"Yeah, remember how we weren't going to do that?"

"Yeah, sorry, just one thing real quick, okay?"

Owen gestured with his hands to continue.

"If there's anything you can do to make it work with Bingum, just do it, okay? You guys are obviously crazy about each other, just stick with it and make it work. Ten years from now, you'll be glad you stuck together. That's all I saying. You don't want to be still going through this crap ten years from now."

"Okay, Parker." Owen clapped the other man on the side of the arm. "Let's get back to work, okay?"

* * *

The doorbell rang and Stacy plodded to answer it. It obviously wouldn't be Jane: she would just walk in, throw her purse down onto the tan flotaki rug that Stacy had saved up for last year, and pour herself a glass of Stacy's wine.

She opened the peep hole. "Grayson? Shouldn't you be at work?"

"Uh, no. Not today. I decided against going in. Can I come in, please?"

Stacy sighed. "I'm not dressed."

"It's a bit late for modesty, Stace."

"Whatever." She clicked open the door and then left him to show himself in. She plopped back down onto the house.

"You okay?

She shrugged and made a "That's a stupid question" face.

He sat down next to her. "Yeah, me, too. I brought Chinese."

She looked at the greasy bag he sat down on the glass coffee table. It left a smear. She pursed her lips. "I am kind of hungry. Not sure about your taste in food, though."

"Oh, come on. You're not even modelling right now. Feed yourself for once. It's really good. I promise we'll take a long walk tomorrow. Up hill, both ways."

"Okay, but I am holding you to it."

He passed her a spring roll and a small white box. She picked at the rice, shuffling it from one side of the box to the other and ate most but not all of the spring roll.

"That the best you can do?" Grayson asked. "I brought pecan chicken."

"You can put some on a plate but no guarantees about any of it making it into my stomach.

He put some on a plate anyway, and she did eat a few bites, which seemed to please him. "So what have you been working on all day?" he asked, gesturing to the papers.

"Trying to figure out my life. What I did wrong. What can I do better in the future."

"What's this, a bank statement? Yowza."

"Grayson!" she grabbed it out of his hands. "It's pretty good. I got a lot of money from selling the Pakery. But it's not going to last long at this rate."

"Well, you gotta get some income, that's all. Make it last longer. Do some investing. There's enough here that you can do what you want - not nothing, but something that makes you happy."

"I guess. Problem is, I don't know what I want anymore."

"The baby thing was supposed to make you happy?"

"Yeah. It kinda did for a couple of weeks there."

"Well..." he squeezed her arm. "We can try that again if you want."

Her face crumpled in front of him.

"We don't have to, Stace. I'm just - what ever makes you happy, okay?"

"You're not happy, Grayson. Why should I be?"

"You're right, I'm not. But I figured out what I wanted and I couldn't have it. I really gave it my all and it fell through my fingers. Nothing I can do about that. Maybe figuring out what would make you happy would make me happy, too."

She took another bite of the chicken and he smiled.

"You're a good guy, Grayson."

"I know. Don't remind me."


	20. Night 81 & Day 82 - Owen Asks for Help

**Night 81**

* * *

_The smile on your face like summer_  
_The way that your hand keeps touching mine_  
_Let me be the one to make it right_

* * *

On night 79 Owen sprung for an evening at Tony's. They shared open-faced grilled turkey sandwiches with warm mashed potatoes and cold soup. They talked about work, about Kim's baby, and about the weather. At the end of the night, Jane drove them both back to her house. Owen stopped with her at the front door and kissed her gently. He lightly touched his lips to hers with his good hand resting on the side of her arm. So gentle and so soft, goosebumps raised on the back of Jane's neck. She pulled away to invite him in, but he decline and said he'd see her in the morning. Disappointed, she offered him a ride home, but he declined that, too. He walked away from the house, presumably to call a cab.

On night 80, they went out again. Jane asked about the children he had rescued. Owen shrugged dismissively. The kids were fine, so far Luis was surviving but not thriving, and it was going to be a long, complicated process to get the children and the mothers into safe situations. He fiddled with his phone and glanced at the clock. She asked if he wanted to go home, but he didn't. When he kissed her again that night, she only felt sad.

So this was the third night in a row that Owen was meeting her for dinner - somewhere different and delicious each night - riding home with her - then leaving on his own. Presumably he was taking a cab but she hadn't seen one pull up yet. She made him swear up and down that he wasn't driving himself, and she believed him.

It was odd, though. An odd pattern. And where was he going after he left?

They stopped at a little bar. "Here's to you," he said from across the little table. "Here's to your good, healthy - and to the second trimester, I believe?"

"You are correct, sir," she said. She smiled at him. "And here's to us."

"To us." He clinked his glass of water against hers. "What are you hungry for, Jane?"

_You. Just you. _"I'm not really very hungry. Actually, we don't have to stay out again, Owen. Not that I'm not having fun, I am, I swear. But you don't have to keep taking me out. It would be okay to stay in." _More than okay._

"Sorry." He smiled sheepishly. "I guess I just don't know how to start this again. It's easier to go out then to stay in talk."

"That doesn't sound good for us, Owen."

"I didn't mean it like that. See, I'm tripping over my words, too. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do."

"Mini golf?"

"See, I thought about something like that, but my wrist hurts all the time now."

She frowned. "Maybe you should have it checked out."

"Eh, I go in Monday. If it's worse before then I'll go in, I promise."

"I guess dancing is out, too."

He nodded.

"That's all right. I have an idea. Ride home with me?"

"You're the boss," he said.

"Well, actually, you're the boss," Jane chuckled, shaking her head.

"Not when you're in the room, honey." He grinned at her and his eyes twinkled meaningfully.

"Funny." She reached for his good hand. "Let's go."

* * *

When they arrived home, Jane settled Owen onto the big couch and propped his arm. "Now I will make popcorn."

"All right, sounds good. Not too much salt, okay?"

"No problem, I have that seasoning blend you like. Stay put. I'll make us some cocoa, unless you'd prefer wine."

"Nah, cocoa is fine."

She returned with a large earthenware bowl of popcorn, two steaming mugs, and a pair of DVDs.

"Okay, what are we watching?"

She flashed the DVDs at him.

"Ah, _Footloose_." He smiled, then his expression softened and he smiled again. "Ahhh, _Footloose_."

"You remember?" she grinned. The first time they'd tried to watch it, the DVD never made it to the screen. They'd spent the entire evening making out on Owen's old couch.

"How could I forget?" He smiled and real pleasure flashed across his face. "What's the second one?"

"They're both _Footloose_. The old and the new. Three and a half hours of good, clean fun. Now you-" she pulled up a footstool for him to rest his legs on, setting the bowl and the mugs in front of them. "-are going to get nice and comfortable. And _I_ am going to sit right here." She sat next to him on the couch and laid her head against his shoulder. "And I don't know about you, but I have nowhere to go tomorrow and I don't really need to pay attention to the movie."

"Jane-" he smiled and wrapped his arm around her. Her heart was pounding hopefully in her chest.

The second movie never made it to the DVD player.

Somehow the popcorn ended up all over the floor.

* * *

"So, most of the kids had birth certificates?"

It was the next morning - day 82 - and Jane and Owen were sitting at the breakfast bar, munching on granola and milk. They were still in pajamas. Luckily for Owen, Jane still had a pair of his in her dresser. It felt good to be sitting there with her, talking about his worries.

"Well, not _had_ them," he explained. "Not physically. But we can find them. Look them up. Almost all of the children were born on the island or in the local hospital, and the county is helping us get copies or have them issued retroactively. It's more difficult for the mothers. Most of them aren't citizens. More than half. I've got a friend down there who is helping get visas for them, but it's going to take time, and they don't have much of that. To be honest, I think somebody is turning a blind eye right now. Not that I'm not grateful, but it's not going to last long."

"Did your car get back safely?"

"Yep. That intern is a card."

"I know, right?" Jane said. "So... where is it?" she asked. Her voice was casual but her eyes were peering and curious.

"My car?"

"No, _the intern._ Of course your car, silly."

"The car's at the office, Jane. Paul drove it there and I let it stay there 'til I can drive again. It's going to be a few weeks, Jane." He laughed. "But don't get used to driving all the time."

"And... how's Olivia?"

"My sister? She's fine, Jane. I haven't seen her since we got back, but we've spoken on the phone."

"I see."

"Okay, what, Jane?"

"Hmmm?"

"What is it that you want to know?"

She nodded thoughtfully. "I want to know where you are living."

"Where am I living?"

"That's what I said."

"I see. Well, I'm living... on my own. Is that what you want to know?"

"You sold your apartment and you rented a storage, Owen. And then the wedding was called off and - I just don't know where you are staying. And I feel bad."

"Oh. Well, to be honest, I don't want to tell you where I'm staying."

"I see."

"Look, it's not a big deal."

"Okay, it's not a big deal."

Owen knew what it meant when Jane started reflecting back what he was saying. He tensed.

It should have been a simple question with a simple answer, but he really wasn't ready to lay out this particular card yet. "Jane, it's not that I'm hiding something from you. I am staying somewhere, and it's fine, but I don't want you to know _yet_."

"Okay."

"Can you please trust me?"

"I guess you deserve that, Owen."

"Let's just say I don't want you feeling sorry for me, and if you see where I am staying, you might."

"Are you staying at the YMCA, Owen?"

"Oh my God, Jane, no. I get to take my own showers at night. Look, it's complicated, okay?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you staying with Grayson?"

"Jane."

"Yes, Owen?"

"Really, you're going to use your eyes on me? Argh, look, I promise I will tell you where I am living very, very soon."

"Promise-promise?"

"Promise, Jane."

Stacey walked out of the bedroom and pulled up a stool. "Nice to see you two smiling," she said, with no answering smile of her own. "What's good this morning?"

"We are having milk over granola this morning-" Jane said.

"Ooh, yummy."

"-and Jane is grilling me over my living arrangements," Owen finished.

"You mean she doesn't know-?"

"No," he answered firmly. "She doesn't."

"I see," Stacey said. "And she's going to keep not knowing?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"For a little while."

"Well, since you're going to be like that, _Owen_, I would be happy to rent you a drawer in my dresser. It's a big sacrifice," Jane said primly. "But I think you could make it worth my while."

"Hmmm, 25 dollars a month? Does that sound fair?" Owen asked, laughing.

"No, I don't think it does. See, I might have to part with a dress or two to make room for your things. And like I said-"

"Big sacrifice," he finished, nodding gravely. "I do see. Well, maybe we could find some other form of payment."

"Oooh, maybe," Jane said. She was laughing, too, now.

"You could rent my room," Stacey said.

The mood changed immediately. "Wait-what?" Jane said.

"I'm not sure I can afford it anymore," Stacey said.

"Stace - what? You have a ton of money. And you know I don't care if you can't make your half every now and then."

"Yeah... no, I know. But it's disappearing really fast. Grayson - he's been helping me work on my budget, and I need to get my living expenses down, and find some kind of regular income. Otherwise I'm going to run out of money and have to start wearing a drive through headpiece or learn how to make coffee." Stacey wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Wow, okay, hey, Stacey, can you and I talk about this a little bit, later?" Owen asked.

"Seriously?" Jane said.

"Don't overreact, Jane, just want to talk to Stacey about her situation. Okay?"

"Okay," she said. She sighed.

Later, when she kissed him goodbye, her eyes brimmed over with worry. "Owen, I just want everything to be okay with us."

He squeezed her with his one arm. "It will be. Just give me a little time. Just a little more. Please?"

* * *

Later that day, Owen found himself knocking at the door he wanted to knock on the least in the world.

Grayson opened the door. The look of surprise on his face was priceless. Owen could see Stacey there, too, in the background.

"Kent. Hi. Can I come in? I need help."


	21. Day 83 - You'll Know Soon Enough

**Day 83**

* * *

_If there is anyone who is in the sun_

_Will you help me to understand_

_Cause I been caught in between _

_All I wish for and all I need_

* * *

If she hadn't been worried before, she was now.

Jane sat on the couch, pouting.

There simply wasn't any other word for it. Her question, which had been such a simple one at first, had been dismissed. _With prejudice_. Her worries, her unselfish concerns, and even her petty suspicions, were now bottled up, capped off and tucked away on a back shelf. Dismissed. And she didn't like it.

So she was pouting. And she wasn't even particularly sorry for it.

She poked at her lunch. Leftover turkey salad smeared onto white bread and a cup of whatever cold tea Stacey had brewed and chilled in the fridge. She bit into the sandwich without tasting it, drank the tea without sweetening it. Her cellphone sat in the place where, at fancy dinners of old, the soup spoon would have sat. It buzzed insistently at her. She pursed her lips in irritation and let it sit.

What was going on with Owen? She was afraid that she had pushed him away, burst the bubble of happiness that was growing between them again. But where was he living? Staying with a friend, staying with family, staying with a woman? She was disgusted with herself for even including that last one. Staying in a motel was the most logical choice, but why the secrecy? He said he didn't want her to feel sorry for him... maybe she should just leave it at that.

Jane flipped her phone over. A text from Teri blinked intrusively on the screen.

_How's life?_

Jane typed with her pinkie finger, meticulously, one letter at a time.

_Irritating. What are you doing today?_

The answer returned almost immediately.

_I'm bored._

Jane grinned wickedly.

* * *

The morning sun was streaming in through the un-curtained window of Grayson's expressionless kitchen. The clear varnish over the soft pine wood of the kitchen table was peeling a layer at a time. One blue plastic place mat stuck to the wood at the head of the table. A woven rug of similar hue lay on the off-white tile floor in front of the deep kitchen sink. The rug was at least five years old, faded and fraying at the edges. One faded gold-framed picture hung on the wall by the cordless phone. The phone gleamed - high tech, shiny, less than a year old. The picture was dull and curling. A layer of dust obscured the glass. It depicted Grayson smiling cheekily with his arm around a pretty blonde woman. Owen thought that must be the famous Deb, the beautiful model who'd picked out the place mat and the rug, then thoughtlessly died, leaving the rest of the kitchen unfinished.

Only a corner of the blue place mat was showing just now. It was piled over with layers of scattered white papers: photos, dossiers, notarized affidavits, visa applications, grant applications, job applications. Since last night everything had been spread out this way. There was order to it, and it was all mapped out in Owen's head, though it would have been invisible to anyone else. These were the files, the worries pressing against the inside of Owen's skull right now. Fifteen children and young women, in need of help, in need of homes. Each one of them in need of individual attention. He and Kent were dividing up the kids and their mothers.

"It's just like you said, man," Kent said. "Most of it is totally straightforward but you've got a couple here that are Gordian knots. We can do our best to loosen the strings, but to really get through them is going to take some brute force."

"I have to admit, I'm having trouble even seeing which ones are simple anymore," Owen said. "I really need some fresh perspective."

"I still don't understand why you aren't asking Jane for help."

'I want to. I'm going to. Just..." He trailed off and shuffled some of the papers around. "I'm trying to focus on building up a solid relationship with her right now, you know. I'm not sure we're really strong enough to work together right now."

Grayson bit his lip.

"To be honest, Kent, I've already decided I'm not going to stay on at the firm after I get all this sorted out and Kim comes back from leave," Owen said. "So, you know, don't look at me like that. It's not a reflection of how I feel about Jane. I just need to separate work and love right now."

"Oh, really?" Grayson's tone seemed suddenly cheerful.

"Don't sound so pleased, Grayson. Well, actually, if it will help you feel better about helping me with all of this, sound as pleased as you want. The faster I can get all of this fixed, the easier it will be for me to leave the firm."

"All right. Well, let's get these organized, then. Your friend Nicole can get most of the visa applications filled out. There are four cases here that are going to need some serious advocacy. If we split them up, piece of cake. We should get at least two of them approved, I think."

"I'd really like to get all of them through, Kent."

"Just trying to be realistic, Owen."

"Well, don't. It's annoying."

The sound of the front door slamming cut through their banter. "I'm back," Stacy called. "Please help me unload the car."

The men got to their feet and went outside. Grayson's truck was loaded with cans of paint, rolls of wallpaper, spackling, nails, and various shelves.

"Wow," Owen said. "How much is this costing me?"

Stacy shrugged cheekily. "You'll find out when you get your bill," she said. "Nothing that wasn't one hundred percent necessary."

"We don't really need to bring all of this in, do we?"

"Oh, no," Stacy said. "All of this stays in the truck. We can run it down when you boys are done moving your papers around. What I want unloaded is in the front - a few things for your house, Grayson. Oh, and lunch. Oh, and you owe Owen one hundred twenty dollars, FYI. Plus twenty for lunch. And five for a tip."

"A hundred bucks for lunch?"

"No, a hundred twenty plus lunch."

"For what?"

"Curtains for the kitchen. A little rug for your living room. Just a few things you needed. I'm sure you would have picked them up yourself, eventually. In another five years or so. Absolutely necessary."

"Um, okay," Grayson said. He pulled out his wallet and handed six twenties to Owen.

"Let's eat first," Stacey said. "Then we'll make a plan."

* * *

Terri and Jane were eating dinner, outside Jane's office. Terri was leaning over her computer. Jane had pulled up a second chair and was reclining with her feet up.

"How hard would it be to pull up his credit card statements?"

"Not hard - sheesh, Jane, you have full access to them."

"I do?"

"Of course you do. You were added a joint account holding a few weeks before the wedding."

"Well, I just assumed that was reversed.'

"You're a lawyer, you know it doesn't work like that."

"Well, he could have at least changed his passwords."

"Well, he didn't. He didn't change anything, Jane. He didn't even take the ring back. It's still in his desk drawer."

"I do not want to know how you know that."

"No, you do not. Side note: he has a really nice picture of you in there."

"A picture of me?"

"Mm-hmm, in a cute little-"

"Okay, enough of that."

"Hey, you should be proud-"

"Drop it, Teri. What have we got?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Jane frowned.

"No hotel charges. No motel charges. No unusual eating out that can't be attributed to a date with you. The only odd charges are from being out of town for a few weeks - a big withdrawal in Vegas. A grocery store run last night. That's it. Nothing that indicates any abnormal living conditions."

"I don't get it," Jane said. "Where is he staying?"

Teri shrugged. "I'd bet with his sister. She lives close, right?"

"Yes, but he said he wasn't."

"He also said he didn't want you to know because you'd feel sorry for him, right?"

"Yeah, that's true."

"Why do you care, anyway?" Teri said. "Serious question. What difference does it make?"

"It's just - why doesn't he want me to know?"

Terri shrugged. 'Why do you _want_ to know?"

* * *

As he packed up all the paperwork, Owen turned to Grayson. "Thanks for your help. I feel a lot better about the whole thing now."

"The two that you're going to focus on - you should really ask Jane for help with them. Give her a little credit. Maybe you'll enjoy working together again. Maybe it will make things easier."

"Yeah, maybe. Thanks, Kent. Hey, Stacy."

"Hey, Owen?"

"Stacy... I couldn't do this without you."

"What's crazy is that you were trying to." Stacy smiled weakly at him. It wasn't a big, bright Stacy smile, but it was the best one he'd seen on her since they''d come home.

"I'll be happy to pay you for your time."

"I don't think so, Owen. Besides, you'd be paying a lot more than just me. I've got a party lined up now."

"Great. What else do you need from me?"

* * *

"So, basically, we've violated my fiance-"

"Ex-fiance-" Teri corrected.

Jane scowled. "My _boyfriend_'s right to privacy, and we've got nothing to show for it."

"Well, not nothing. You know he's not staying at a hotel or a motel-"

Jane brushed away Teri's logic. "I didn't want to know where he's _not_ staying."

Teri was looking at her phone. "You know, personally, I think you should just drop it."

"What?"

"Drop it. I'm sure you'll find out soon enough."

"Ugh. Who's side are you on, anyway?"

"I'll make it up to you, I promise, "Teri said. She smirked. "Or maybe your _boyfriend_ will. I have to go."

"What? You said you were free the rest of the evening."

"Something's come up. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow." Teri grabbed her coat and walked toward the elevator.

Jane locked her office and headed home. There was one very simple method of finding out where Owen was going, one she had overlooked. She felt better already.


	22. Day 85 - Nancy Drew

**Day 85**

* * *

_touch your lips just so_

_i know_

_in your eyes, love, it glows_

_so i'm bare-boned and crazy for you_

_for me_

_come crash into me_

* * *

Owen didn't come over Sunday night. Jane ate yet another cold sandwich. Another night like this and she'd have to start cooking again.

Monday was a bust. She had four new and very boring cases, five letters to write (well, polish and sign, really, Teri drafted them), and a meeting with a new client who need a good slap more than she needed a lawyer. Lots of billable hours to please Owen and Parker, but nothing fun or even remotely intellectually stimulating for Jane. She ate lunch with Nicole and talked about nothing. At the end of the day, Owen stopped by her office, kissed her on the cheek, and said he'd see her tomorrow.

She could cry, but she didn't think it would help much.

Tuesday was better, she could feel it as soon as her brown eyes flicked open. Stacy was miraculously awake and cheerful, and she had already made a plate of _huevos rancheros_ for Jane.

"_Muchas gracias_," Jane said with a smile. "You seem cheerful today."

"I _am_ cheerful," she agreed. "I had a busy weekend. Jane - why didn't you tell me about your baby?"

"Oh!" Jane blushed furiously. "Oh! I-"

"Was it - was it because you were afraid I'd be upset-?"

"Oh my God, Stacy, I wanted to tell you so badly." Jane felt her eyes flood warm and wet.

"Oh, don't cry, sweetie." Stacy wrapped her arms around her. Jane laid her head down on her friends shoulder and squeezed her. She felt tension easing out of her body. She should have told Stacy weeks ago. Right away.

"Seriously, Stace, I have been wanting to tell you and it was just never the right time, and everything was _so_ messed up with Owen, and I didn't know _what_ was going to happen, and then I got home and you were in the hospital, and- I'm so, so sorry."

"Jane, I never got to tell you about my baby until she was gone. I was so sad. Let's not ever do that again, okay? And, you know, maybe I can get pregnant again really soon and we can raise our babies together."

Jane looked at Stacy, really looked at her for the first time since she'd gotten back. There seemed to be new lines all over her face. Dark circles outlined her lovely eyes. Even her hair seemed darker. Her expression seemed more serious, and her words were desperately hopeful.

"You know what, Stace?" Jane smiled and squeezed her friend's shoulders. "I really hope that happens."

"Me, too."

"And you know what else?"

"What?"

"I really love you, Stace."

* * *

Later at work, everybody else seemed to be in a good mood, too. Teri had a perfect cup of coffee ready and she was actually smiling. After a very engaging client meeting that had Jane scheming for how to snatch a victory, Owen stopped by to offer to take her for lunch and she gladly accepted. They had a short but flirty lunch at the bar around the corner and she offered to make him homemade alfredo at home for dinner. He cheerfully accepted, but admitted that he couldn't stay late. He wanted to get to bed early to get ready for a full schedule of meetings tomorrow. Jane smiled and said that was fine.

In fact, it was perfect.

* * *

"You are a hell of a chef, Jane." They were sitting at the little dining room table in Jane's apartment. The overhead lights were dim, there was a pair of candlesticks on the table, and Jane had brought out the good cloth napkins. Both of their plates were almost clean of the linguine alfredo with broccoli Jane had served.

"Almost as good as I am a lawyer, wouldn't you say?" she asked, batting her eyes at him.

"If you weren't such an amazing lawyer I'd say just as good. But we both know you are the master of the courtroom." He wiped the corners of his mouth and beamed at her.

"Thanks, Owen. Not too shabby yourself."

"Speaking of court," he said, "I've been meaning to ask you for some help with a couple of pro bono cases I've been working on."

"The kids from the island? I keep wondering why you aren't talking about them."

"To be honest, I was completely overwhelmed at first. I didn't want you to see how crazy it was making me. And I wanted to focus on each other, rather than trying to work together."

"Aw, Owen. That's sweet. But we're so good when we work together. Almost a good as when we-"

"I know." He chuckled. "I was just worried. Then Grayson said-"

"Woah, you talked to Grayson about this?"

"He's helping me with the whole thing. With the mess. I needed a second pair of eyes. There were so many of them, so he took a few off my plate, helped me with seeing what needed delegated, what needed focused on by a pro."

"Yourself being the pro."

"Of course," He winked at her. "But I mean Grayson, too. There are four really tough cases, and Kent split them with me, two each. And he said-"

"I can't believe you actually trusted Grayson with something like this."

"Well, we have totally different working styles, but that doesn't mean I think he's a bad attorney. He's an excellent attorney. A little stiff in his delivery, a little dry, a little detached. He's got nothing on you and your brilliant, dramatic flair, sweetheart." Owen raised his glass to her.

She clinked her water glass against his. "So if my style is dramatic flair, what's yours?"

Owen reached into his pockets and pulled his hands out again, fingers clenched and pointed into the shapes of a pair of pistols pointed at her. "Old school showdown. Double gun approach. Cold hard facts - bam! Indisputable logic - bam!"

Jane laughed. "All right, there, cowboy. Very impressive."

"So, _anyway_, Jane, as I was saying, Grayson said I should ask you to help with my cases. That I should trust you with them."

"That's really nice. And he's right, of course. We can do it together."

"I know, sweetheart. But I don't think that's what he meant, anyway. I think he was telling me to trust you with my worry, not just the case, you know? To let you in... into the not perfect aspects of my life." The struggle to verbalize those feelings was written all over his face.

"Okay. That's nice. It's good. It's a good thing." She reached out and touched his temple, brushing his sandy bangs out of his eyes. She smiled. "Really good. So let's see what you have here."

He laid the cases out for her. There were two cases, but they were intertwined - a boy named Timoteo and his young mother, Irena. Owen said the boy was called Timmy. He had only met the mother over the phone but she seemed like a nice girl. There was some trouble with both of their documentation. The trouble with the mother's documentation was that it was clear cut - legally, she didn't belong in America and the judge Owen was talking to wanted to throw her out right away. That he hadn't already done so was surprising, but Owen said he suspected the guy had a good heart. Neither he nor Grayson or the judge could see any way around the situation.

The problem with Timmy's documentation was that there wasn't any. Irena claimed he was born on the island, and the county was accepting island births as American soil, but there was no way to prove the circumstances of Timmy's birth.

Owen thought that if they could prove that Timmy was a United States citizen, the judge would be tempted to be lenient on Irena and help her to stay in the country on a working Visa. Luis was still going to offer her a job at the church. It would be a permanent, stable job and give Timmy a safe place to live. His entire life would be uplifted if he and his mother could stay in Dana Point rather than be deported.

"If she goes back to Mexico, she'll almost definitely fall back onto prostitution, or worse, and where does that leave Timmy?" Owen asked her.

"Wow. No pressure," Jane said.

"Now you see why I've been preoccupied. All this and trying to be a good - whatever it is I'm supposed to be to you and our child right now."

"Baby-daddy," Jane said automatically, not meeting his eyes. She squelched a chuckle.

Owen threw a piece of ice at her.

* * *

It was later than they'd both expected when he'd left, and he left reluctantly. Working together on the case really was almost as good as a physical connection to them. There were sparks so strong between them they were almost visible. She walked him to the door. He kissed her gently and declined once again the offer of a cab.

Jane ran to the bedroom, kicked off her heels and threw on a pair of walking flats. She grabbed a flashlight and stuffed her phone into her slacks pocket. She walked back outside and peeked out - could she still see him? It was dark and foggy, but she could see the back of his suit jacket as he turned right onto the next street. Her legs would only take her so fast, but she turned the corner and followed him.

He walked three blocks on Forster street, then turned left onto Baker. Two blocks this way. As he stepped into the shadowy light of a lamp post, he turned around and peered into the darkness. There was no way to hide but she kept very still. Maybe he wouldn't see her. Maybe he wouldn't recognize her. The fog was still thick and it was hard to see anything clearly, but she could see him perfectly well under the light. Unfortunately, the fog was also creeping into her jacket. Goose bumps were crawling up her arms and on her scalp, setting her hair on end. She was shaking with cold. This plan wasn't nearly as fun as she had imagined it.

One long, five-block stretch later, Owen stopped and walked into a yard, up a walkway. Jane waited until he disappeared then followed. She couldn't see the house well through the fog, but she could determine that it was just a house. His car was parked in the street in front of it. All the windows were dark at first, then one of the big front ones blinked awake. There were no window treatments - if she could get closer, she could see inside.

She walked into the yard, stepped off of the sidewalk into the grass, then stood there, unsure of what to do. So she'd followed him and found a house - now what? A few minutes later the front light blinked off again and all the windows were dark. Two minutes later, one of the upper story lights glowed. It stayed on while Jane just stared at the house. Her eyes were more accustomed to the dark. It was a nice house. Two stories of early twentieth-century architecture - unusual for the neighborhood. It almost looked like a farmhouse, almost romantic. A patch of soft green grass wrapped around to the back.

Taking small, quiet steps, she walked through the grass toward the back of the house. Trashcans were silhouetted against the alleyway and and they were stuffed with debris. Big crumpled pieces of plastic and old discarded wood poked out the top of the cans.

A large tree dominated the back yard and a tire swing hung from one of the higher branches. What was this place? Was this Olivia's house? Owen's car was parked out front but there was a big truck in the back drive that Jane didn't recognize.

Irresistibly curious now, Jane walked circumspectly up to the side window, to the room where the light had been on fifteen minutes ago. She stood up on tip toes and pressed her nose to the glass. She was looking into a living room. Sparsely furnished, there was a big rug in the middle of the floor and a couch against the wall. No pictures - in fact, nothing on the wall at all. Couldn't be Olivia's house - could it? Owen's sister had to live farther away, and besides, fierce as she had been at their first meeting, surely she-

"What do you think you're doing?"

Jane spun around to run, but she was caught between the wall and the man.

"You just couldn't leave well enough alone, could you, Jane?"

"I..."

Owen stepped closer, so that her back was against the house. He was looking down at her frowning severely.

"I said I didn't want you to know, but that wasn't good enough, was it?"

"I..."

"I said I didn't want you to feel sorry for me, but you didn't mind, huh?"

"I..." she couldn't think of anything to say.

"I said you would find out very soon, but that just wasn't soon enough for Nancy Drew, huh?"

"I, Owen, I'm..."

He stopped her with a kiss. He pressed his mouth to hers, sucking in her bottom lip and biting down on it gently. The kiss was like a deep breath, warm and strong. She could feel the weight of him through her damp jacket, pinning her against the wall. His body didn't seem to be as angry with her as his words sounded. Her head spun.

He lifted his face from hers and brushed a damp piece of hair away from her eyes. "You know, I've been followed before," he said, his voice rumbling low in his throat, "but never by anything as sweet as you." He gripped the side of her shoulder with his good hand and kissed her again. "You better come inside, there could be scary people out here."

"I think I'm more worried about the scary one right here," she said, challenging him. Her voice shook a little. Her eyes were widened and blood was pounding in her head, but it wasn't from fear.

"Me?" He growled at her. "Me you're just going to have to deal with, honey. Get inside, I want to show you something upstairs."

* * *

Actually, there wasn't much to see in the bedroom.

But afterward as they lay in the huge double sleeping bag on a mattress on the floor, Jane didn't mind.


	23. Day 86 - The Makeout House

**Day 86**

* * *

_I'm only up when you're not down_  
_Don't wanna fly if you're still on the ground_  
_It's like no matter what I do_  
_Well you drive me crazy half the time_  
_The other half I'm only trying to let you know that what I feel is true_  
_And I'm only me when I'm with you_

* * *

"So two days before the wedding, I closed on the house. It was going to be a huge surprise. It wasn't done yet, and there was no treehouse yet but aside from that I knew you'd love it. It had everything you were looking for and it was within walking distance of Stacy. I had enough in the bank to close on my own without telling you, and I wanted to knock you off your feet with it."

"I actually forgot about the treehouse," she said.

Owen was laying behind her on his side, propped up on his good arm, smiling down over her. The room they were in was almost empty but brimming with potential. Two large closets - one already half full of Owen's clothes. A bay window with a bench for reading. A nicely-sized master bathroom. And in the middle of the floor, a large, bare king sized mattress, dressed only with a rugged double sleeping bag that Owen had apparently been sleeping in since he'd closed on the house.

"And now I've ruined the surprise."

"Well, I should have known better than to try and keep a secret from you, _Mata Hari_. Besides, we agreed before the wedding - no secrets, right? It's my fault, really. I'm surprised you weren't checking my credit card receipts."

"Er..." Jane smiled sheepishly.

"I forgive you, Jane. Like I said, my fault. No more secrets."

"Right," she said. "Not necessarily to the exclusion of good surprises, though. I'm sorry, Owen. I didn't mean to ruin this for you."

"Forget it, Jane, seriously. It's not ruined. This is better. Now you can give some input to the renovations. Besides, this..." he trailed off meaningfully, "...was way better than a surprise. You were so cute trying to tail me in the dark."

"But you've been living here the entire time?"

"Since the wedding. Aside from my little trip."

"You went to Vegas, by the way?"

"Don't ask me about Vegas, Jane, please."

"Why not?"

"It it just wasn't the same without you," she could hear the pensive frown marring his face, "I didn't like who I saw in the mirror there. Know what I mean?"

"You lost money?"

"No. Think I came out ahead, actually. Remind me to do something with the chips in my dresser. I'll take you down sometime, if you want."

"Maybe," Jane said. "If _you_ wanted to go, I'd go with you. It's not my kind of place, though, honestly."

"That's true." He pressed his forehead against her shoulder blade and inhaled deeply. "I have to get up, Jane. My arm is getting sore again, and I'm hungry and it's going to be a _big_ day. A couple of really big meetings today."

"Here, I'll help you up. What did the doctor say?"

"That I'm old," he chuckled sadly. "Nah, everything's fine. It will be a few more weeks. I'm supposed to be relaxing."

"Well, I'm not sure living like a college freshman is the best way to be relaxing."

"I'm a man. A mattress is all we really need."

"Mmhmm, so you said. You also said something about renovations, which I'm sure are very relaxing."

"Oh, that's right, I haven't shown you around yet!"

"Well, you were a bit distracted last night," she said.

"That's true. In fact, hey, maybe that tour can wait..." he bent down to kiss her again.

She pushed him away playfully. "Oh, I don't think so. You need to eat. You have a _big_ day with _big_ meetings, Mr. Boss Man. And I need clothes. I can't go to work in your _big_ blue dress shirt." She pointed at the closet.

He passed her one of his shirts and she pulled it over her shoulders as a make shift robe, fastening only a few of the buttons. He looked her up and down appreciatively. "Too bad, I think your boss man would like that very much."

She smiled and grabbed him by the hand. "Show me the house, please."

* * *

Teri kicked the kitchen door with her knee. Her arms were full. She had a large paper sack of prepared food for the freezer, a handmade pink and purple afghan, and a box of carefully wrapped knick knacks on top of it all. She didn't expect it to be locked - Owen hadn't locked it since letting her in on the little secret a few days ago. The door's resistance to her kick surprised and irritated her. She balanced her load carefully and stuffed her right hand into her pocket, fishing out the keys. She felt with her fingertips to find what seemed to be the right one, jiggled it into the lock, then jiggled it again to unlock the door. The door swing open a little too quickly and she nearly lost her balance, nearly dumping her packages all over the green and white tiled floor. She caught herself just in time and deposited the packages with a loud clonk onto the countertop.

She looked over into the livingroom, where the dark pink velvet couch was standing up to four plain white walls. She liked the couch, it had a tall back and the arms were curly. Very funky. Very Jane. Teri knew that contractors were coming later today to install six tall white bookcases on the opposite wall, flanking the massive white stone fireplace. The precious box of knick knacks were waiting for those shelves, and the crocheted afghan was going to sit on the corner of the couch. It looked so empty without any kind of throw or decorative pillows.

But the couch wasn't empty right now. A man and a woman were enthroned there. She couldn't see much but a pair of legs and a blue men's shirt, but she got the idea pretty quickly.

Someone must have broken into the house. It had been abandoned so long, someone claimed it as their makeout house. Fun.

Instantly she realized her mistake. Teri recognized those thick-cream thighs. The kitchen door had been locked for a reason. She ducked back out the kitchen door, hoping they would not notice the slamming of the door.

Stacy was standing next to the trunk of Teri's car. She was loading up her own arms with a stack of children's books and a box of photos that had spilled in the trunk and all over the driveway. Teri walked over and put her box of knick knacks back in the car. She knelt down to help Stacy with the photos.

"What's wrong?" Stacy asked.

"Nothing," Teri said. "Just not a good time for deliveries. The occupants are ... occupied." She grinned.

"The occupants?"

"Uh-huh. They're both in there."

"Jane and Owen?"

"No, Ken and Barbie. Come on, smarty, I'll drop you back at home and we can bring this stuff when they go to work."

Jane's two best friends pulled away giggling.

* * *

Stacy was really enjoying working on Jane's house. The work was therapeutic. It reminded her of her favorite parts of the Pakery - the getting started parts. Picking out paint colors and furniture. Spending someone else's money. Dreaming about the future. She was trying to decide if there was a career in that. Oh, not the obvious ones. Stacey was not interested in being an interior designer. She was only having fun because this was _Jane's_ home. If it had been a stranger's home, and if her payment was contingent on making the right decisions, it wouldn't have been fun anymore. It was the intimate connection with Jane that was making everything so fun.

Doubly so for the nursery that she was beginning for Jane. She knew Jane would want to finish it herself, so she was working from a very neutral base. A pale grey carpet was being installed, and the walls were wainscoted on the bottom half, but she would leave the color paint for the top to Jane. All Stacy did was scrub the wainscoting til it shone. She found a nice white crib and matching dresser. She laid them out in the room and it made her heart twist a little in jealousy. It could have been anyone's nursery - it could have been her baby's nursery. Now it would be Jane's turn to personalize it all, to make it uniquely hers.

All the photos had been retrieved off of the ground and reboxed. They were the last photographs left from Deb's collection. Stacy had been hoarding them for so long, surrendering them to decorate Jane's house was a relief. Teri had supplied two large, long collage frames. One would be a collage of Deb's childhood - Stacy's plan was for the frame to be subtle enough that Owen wouldn't be able to tell that it was the childhood of a woman he didn't know. There were a lot of crooked landscapes and pictures of young Stacy. The other frame was going to be a celebration of the last five years.

Stacy's big plan for the day was to lay on the floor in the guest bedroom and arrange the photos in the frames. Unless the contractors were cute. Then she'd stretch out on the livingroom floor. After all, she wasn't pregnant yet... or even really dating anyone, technically. As much as she was enjoying Grayson's company, he'd yet to show any inclination to make their relationship romantic. Or official. Or even public information.

"I like Grayson," she said to the picture of Deb that was on top of a stack. "He's pretty. And smart. And funny. I really just wanted to make a baby with him. And it worked for a little while. I don't know if I can love him. Does that make me a cold-hearted bitch or a faithful friend?"

In the photograph, Deb just smirked.

"Doesn't really matter, though, does it? He's still in love with you. And you turned him down. Well, you-as-Jane. You know what I mean. If he's enjoying my company, comforting my body, sharing my food, doesn't that just make me a rebound from you? It's like you're the one thing we have in common, and the common thing is that you left both of us."

Stacy flipped through to a few of the other pictures. "I still miss you. Even though you're not gone. Does that make any sense? We used to be the same and now it's like you're better than me, and I hate it. I want to do something great like you, but I can't figure out how. I was a television actress. I was amazing! But it wasn't good enough. I had my own business, something no one I know has, but it wasn't that, either. It was boring and hard and it wasn't for me. What's my thing? When's my time, Jane? I don't want to just... be your room mate my whole life. And soon I won't even have that anymore."


	24. Day 87 - Stacy Makes Plans

**Day 87**

* * *

_I put one foot in front of the other one_

_I don't need a new love or a new life, just a better place to die._

_Maybe I should learn to shut my mouth._

_I am over twenty-five and I can't make a name for myself_

_Some nights I break down and cry_

* * *

"Penny for your thoughts."

"I charge a dollar."

Grayson whipped out his wallet and passed Stacy a crisp green bill.

"This is a five, Grayson."

"I'll have three of your heaviest thoughts and my change, please."

"I don't have change for a five."

"I'll take credit for the other two."

"Deal."

She slipped the five into the pocket of her slacks and went back to work arranging knick-knacks on Jane's beautiful new bookcases.

Grayson sat down in the leather chair-and-a-half Owen had personally delivered to the living room. This leather monster was easily the most comfortable chair Grayson had ever plonked his ass into. He could just imagine Owen sitting here, reading some really long and boring book - _The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_, _War and Peace_, _The California Code of Civil Procedure_, _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_ - he really didn't know or care what Owen read in his free time. He put his feet up on the wide leather ottoman. Under the ottoman was a red circular rug that seemed to define this as Owen's Personal Space.

Grayson enjoyed sitting here. It seemed only fair.

"Well, Stacy? I'm waiting."

"You asked for my heaviest thoughts. It takes time to fish them out." She was laying on the floor with her toes in the air.

"There's at least one sitting right there on the tip of your tongue," Grayson said. "I'll have that one first."

"I don't feel like moving," she said.

"Um, Jane and Owen are going out to dinner. They won't be home for hours. No need to move for awhile."

"That's not what I mean. Jane's moving in with Owen."

"And...?"

"And I can't afford to pay the rent on my own. I talked with Owen about it, he actually offered to buy my apartment and help me find a room mate, but that sounds just as exhausting. I think he wanted me to stay close for Jane's sake."

"Do you want to stay close?"

"I don't want to walk over for cup of flour and walk in on something I'd have to hide my baby's eyes from like Teri did yesterday," Stacy said, snorting with laughter.

"But...?"

"But I don't want to move to another neighborhood, either, Grayson. You're the one that said I can't afford to live here on my own, and you were right. I'd have to switch neighborhoods, find a room mate, or both."

"When I said that, Stacy, I had a reason for saying it, you know."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Well, I was thinking of getting a room mate myself. And I'm only a five minute drive from here, so Jane would still be happy, but not walking over for a cup of flour. And if you still want to have a baby..." He looked at her meaningfully.

She looked down at her photos.

"Do you still want to have a baby?" he asked. "I'm trying to be polite about it, but I have no idea what the protocol is here. Do we have to wait a while, do you even want to try again...?"

"I want to try again," she answered softly, not looking at him.

"Do you want to move in with me? I'll help with the boxes and stuff."

"You're asking me to move in with you?"

"Well, I'm asking you to rent a room from me, no strings attached. You can pay whatever we figure out makes sense for your budget."

"Room mates with benefits?"

"I have a room, you need a room. You want a baby, I have the biological necessities. I'm lonely, you're lonely. Could be the start of something beautiful. A real romantic story to tell the kids when they grow up."

"Shut up, Grayson."

"So?"

"Yes, okay. I would like to be your roommate."

"I'd like to cash in again," Grayson said.

"Huh?"

"Now what's your big thought?"

She didn't hesitate. "What's going to happen to me? Are we just going to be supporting characters now? I mean Jane's got everything, she's got Owen who worships the ground she walks on and a high-paying job she seems to love, and a baby, and now she's got a house, too, and I don't have anything anymore. I was supposed to be the big success. I had a fucking TV show. And now I'm moving in with the guy she dumped so I can try to make a baby just to try and myself happy? What the hell is wrong with me?"

"Wow. That's been building up for awhile, huh?"

"Yeah. That one was actually a $2 thought, so you're down to two now."

"Stacy?"

"Yeah?"

"Put that stuff away and come home with me for awhile, okay? Have you even eaten today?"

She shook her head.

"Come on. I'll make you a PB&J and we'll figure out what you want to do next with your life, okay? I'll go start the car."

* * *

Later that night, they shared Chinese food again and when Grayson pulled a tiny slip of paper out of his cookie, the words written in tiny blue ink kicked him right in the gut. "To forget oneself is to be happy." -Robert Louis Stevenson

Grayson pulled his lips into something that could almost pass as a smile. He was taking a hint from life. Deb wasn't coming back. Nobody was coming to bring happiness back to him. He looked over at Stacy. She was studying the mushrooms in her chicken. He had the power to help her find happiness. That would be his way of forgetting about himself. Everything she wanted was within his power to help her find.

"Earth to Stacy," he said.

"Sorry, thinking again."

"I have two more credits, don't I?"

"No charge for this one. Just trying to figure out what I want to do. I know you said I'd be a good interior decorator, but I just don't see that. I don't want to deal with other people's opinions."

"What about a party planner?"

"Hmmm, that has potential. Got anything else?"

"Well, you could be my personal assistant. Run errands for me. Cook dinner."

Stacy threw her head back and laughed. When she was done she glared at him.

"No?"

"No, Grayson. Not a personal anything to anybody, and _definitely_ not your cook."

"Maybe there's a really cool clothing store in the mall you'd like to have a discount at?" he asked.

"That's not really a career, Grayson, but I still will give it thought, at least for now."

"It could be a career. You could become a store manager."

"Crappy hours, crappy pay, no thank you, Grayson. I want to have a family, you know."

"I know, Stacy. We'll figure it out, okay? Hey, have you thought about babysitting?"

"Babysitting? You mean like going to people's houses and watching their kids?"

"That's usually what people mean when they say it. I guess when you are a grown up, it's being a nanny, right?"

"Right. Let me think about that, Grayson. I don't want to watch Jane's baby if that's what you're thinking."

"I was, kind of, I guess. I don't really know for sure, but I'm guessing she'll need to hire someone after the baby's born. Between her salary and Owen's, I'm sure they can afford it. Even if Owen really leaves the firm."

Stacy nodded absently. "Still don't want to work for Owen and Jane. I need something of my own, you know?"

"I completely understand. Personally I'd rather serve burgers than work for Owen."

"And yet you are."

"For now. Here's hoping that Kim had a short maternity leave and Owen is gone by Christmas."

Stacy laughed.

"Hey, maybe you could work for Kim."

"How would that be better than working for Owen?"

"Fair point."

"Want to take a look at your room?"

"You're going to put me in Deb's room? I have been in there before."

"I know, Stacy. But it's not like she ever slept there. Just kept her massive clothing collection in the massive closet."

"I've been in there, too. I miss those clothes."

"I donated them to that free clothes for job interviews thingy, but I'm sure they miss you, too."

Stacy pushed her plate away and laid her head on Grayson's shoulder. "Thanks for taking everything I say in stride. I know I've been kind of bitchy about Jane lately, and that's not really fair to you."

He put his arm around her and squeezed. There didn't seem to be anything else to say.


	25. Day 88 - Another Flat Tire

**Day 88**

* * *

_And all I hear is the music_  
_And beauty stands before me_  
_And love comes back around again_  
_It's a carousel, my friend_

* * *

Owen French did not believe in fate, but years later when he looked back, today would strike him as particularly fortuitous. That today, of all days, he would be stuck in his truck with Jane due to a flat tire was beyond chance. Grayson's flat tire a month ago had sent him spiraling on this whole crazy journey. Now it was his own car, with Jane behind the wheel, that had succumbed to a splinter of road and left them stranded.

Going the long way around the city had been Owen's idea. If they had cut right through the city, as Jane suggested, their trip would have been longer because of traffic. However, they would not have gotten the flat tire or had to wait two hours until roadside assistance would arrive.

They were driving as fast as they could to Dana Point to meet with an immigration specialist who offered to donate a few consulting hours if they came down right away. They left early in the morning and were planning to buy him a nice lunch. Now God only knew what time they would get there.

Owen slammed his hand against the dashboard. Pain shot up his arm.

"You're never going to heal that way," Jane said softly.

"Sorry. I'm sorry, Jane. I needed this. After our phone call with Traverse yesterday, I had really high hopes. What are the odds he can reschedule before the judge takes action?"

"Teri's already working on it, Owen. It's okay. She can handle it."

"I guess."

Jane reached across his lap and grabbed his healthy hand. He smiled slightly. "Glad you're with me. You look nice today."

"Thanks." She beamed at him. "I got most of my clothes moved in last night."

"That's good. I'm glad." He sighed.

"Okay, what's really bothering you, Owen?"

"Oh, nothing, sweetheart." He flicked his thumb over the skin of her hand. "Things are good. Just worried about the case. Worried about the kids. You know most of them are settled in now. But Timmy is still camping out in the church basement. And I don't know if I told you or not, but Grayson has one that's in real danger, too, a little girl. She's a hairbreadth away from being put on a bus. She's even younger than Timmy. If Traverse doesn't have any good advice for us, I just don't see her being able to stay in the country."

"I'm sorry, Owen. But it's not your fault, you know. You saved their lives. Even if they get deported - they'd be dead if not for you."

"Well, that's debatable. I don't know how much of it was actually me. The teenager probably could have navigated better than I did."

"Well, you are in a mood, aren't you?"

He sighed again. "Hey, I got a question for you, Jane. Something I've always wondered." He bit his lip. He should just keep his mouth shut, but he really wanted to know.

"What?"

"Do you believe in soulmates?"

"Soulmates, really? That's an odd question, Owen. I thought we were worried about immigration law right now."

He laughed. "It's an odd day, Jane."

"Okay, why do you ask?"

"Grayson-"

"Seriously, Grayson again?" Irritation crinkled her forehead and her voice tightened. "I thought we were past this."

"You remember the night that the musician play the theme song from Ghost and you cried?"

Jane's whole demeanor changed. The tension left her eyebrows and changed to surprise, even alarm. She looked out the window, away from him. "Um, yes. You got a text from me, but I couldn't find my phone."

"Did you know Grayson requested the song?"

He could see that she was chewing on the inside of her mouth, but she didn't answer him.

"He, um..." Owen paused and turned to watch her face. "Grayson was testing you to see if there might be a part of you that was his late girlfriend." He watched her face carefully. "Did you know _Deb_? He wanted to know if you were Deb." Sure enough, her face twitched when he said the name, once and then again.

"Okay, that's awkward," she said, giggling nervously. "I feel so bad for Grayson. Drop it, Owen, okay?"

"But you already knew that, didn't you, Jane?" he persisted quietly.

She sighed but the feigned amusement slowly faded from her face. She seemed to realize he wasn't going to drop it so easily. "Yes, Owen. I knew."

"Crazy, huh? The thought that the soul of one person could be inside the body of someone else?"

"Yeah... pretty crazy."

"I wonder..." he said slowly, unrelenting. "I wonder if something like that happened, would it be like reincarnation, do you think, or would it be like two people living in the same body?"

"It would be crazy," Jane said. "Period." Her voice was shaking badly.

"Yeah," Owen said. "I mean, that kind of craziness, well that would make life really hard on someone, wouldn't it? I can only imagine how hard that would be. Any woman that could, oh, I don't know, come out of that situation still looking like an intelligent, beautiful human being, well she would have to be pretty amazing."

"Actually, it wouldn't be amazing," Jane said. "If something stupid and crazy like that happened, it wouldn't be amazing or beautiful. Not at all. Just the wrong soul in the wrong body. One set of memories and feelings stuck in the wrong life. That's all, Owen. Just a horrible mistake." She swiped at her eyes and stared ahead through the windshield.

"I'm sorry, honey. I'm pushing you too hard. We can change the subject." But it was too late, and she was crying in earnest. Almost no sound escaped her lips, but her whole body was shuddering. She laid her forehead against the steering wheel, her face turned away from him.. He wanted to put his arm around her and comfort her, apologize for his gaffe, but it was impossible with his wrong hand next to her. He got out of the car and walked around to her open window. He laid his head on the edge of the window so his forehead was just touching the halo of her soft brown hair. After a few minutes of sobbing, she stilled and sat up. He left his head there, afraid to look at her. She must not have been angry, because she worked her fingers into his hair and kneaded his scalp gently.

"You must think I'm crazy," she said. Her voice was hoarse and held a restrained mixture of amusement and self-recrimination

"Life is crazy, Jane, and as far as I can tell, you are the only sane thing in mine." He stood up. "Come out here and sit in the grass with me."

Owen's cell phone buzzed, and it was the roadside assistance team, letting them know that the man was on the way with a jack and a donut. He'd be there in about half an hour. Owen hung up and smiled at Jane. Her pretty red sundress was spread out across her neatly crossed legs in the grass, and she was wearing a red shawl that contrasted nicely with the strawberry cream of her skin.

"Did you know it's been eighty-eight days since the wedding?" he asked.

She laughed, a clear, musical laugh that seemed to rise like a bubble to the sky. "I didn't know we were keeping count."

"Well, I have been. Mentally." He pulled a worn out piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to her.

"Oh, Owen - our marriage license?"

"Expires tomorrow. 90 days from issue, as you know, and it was issued the day before the wedding."

"Oh." She smoothed the paper out. "Have you been carrying this around the whole time?"

"Kind of... yeah. Yes."

"Wow."

"Yeah. Sorry."

"No - it's - it's nice." Tears spang to her eyes again. "You never gave up on us, did you?"

"I had this big plan - oh, actually, lots of big plans. The house. I wanted it to be perfect by now. Taking over as a partner at H&P. I was going to completely turn the firm around for you. And when you told me about the baby - it just seemed like - like fate - like soulmates, but not the magic kind, you know? - like somehow we'd find our way back to each other before this expired."

"Well, we did." Jane smiled. "I'm here."

"Jane, will you marry me? Last time to ask, I promise. Will you marry me, for good? I love you and your crazy mixed up soul."

"I thought you'd never ask... again." She smiled, and the tears were sparkling on her cheeks, highlighting her beautiful eyes. "Let's do it tomorrow. Before it expires."

"I know someone who would love to make that happen for us. I'm sorry, I didn't bring the ring."

"I don't care about the ring, Owen, I-"

A tow truck with blinking yellow lights pulled up in front of Owen's car. A young man in a pair of blue coveralls and wearing a large black cowboy hat stepped down out of the truck. He extended his hand to Owen. "Luke. Sorry it took me so long. I was being held up."

Jane whipped her head around. "Luke?"

"Yes, ma'am. You must be the cardholder. Jane, was it? Do you have your ID card on you?"

"Luke?! Don't you remember me?"

"Sorry, ma'am. Must have slipped my mind." He winked at Jane.

Owen chuckled. "Jane thinks she knows everybody."

Jane rounded on him. "You don't remember Luke?"

"Why should I, honey? I haven't had a flat tire in three years. Grayson did, but guess what? He doesn't have roadside service."

Luke chuckled. "Always marry the man with roadside service, Jane."

"See?" Owen laughed and pointed at Luke. "Smart man."

Jane rolled her eyes.

* * *

In the rectory, Luis sat up suddenly. "Nora!" he shouted.

"What is it, Padre? Lay back down, you need to rest."

"No, corazon. I need to get up. I feel much better. Help me up. I need to get dressed."

"Why, Luis? What could be so important?"

"Owen is coming."

"How do you know?"

"I just do! Help me up. Where is Nicquito?"

"At the school today. He'll be home in an hour. Should I set an extra place at the dinner table?"

Luis smiled. "Two extra places. And make sure my vestments are washed."

"Luis, no. You are not saying Mass tomorrow. Padre Tomas is still filling in for you."

"Not tomorrow, Nora. Tomorrow I will say Mass myself."

The phone rang. Nora walked briskly out of Luis's bedroom, with Luis laughing as she left. A few minutes later she walked back in.

"Well?" he asked.

"Owen wants to speak with you," Nora said. She handed him the phone.

"Owen! ¿Que pasa?"

Nora rushed out of the room - presumably to wash his vestments.


	26. Day 89 - A Wedding

**Day 89**

* * *

_Time stands still, b__eauty in all she is._  
_I will be brave _  
_I will not let anything take away _  
_What's standing in front of me _  
_Every breath, e__very hour has come to this._

* * *

The day dawned brilliantly. Jane woke in the spare bedroom of Nora's big home. The room was very simple - a single bed with light, practical bedclothes, a plush blue carpet, a homemade blue patchwork quilt. The window was long and covered with a plain white shade.

But the white walls were crammed with framed photographs. Some were black and white and nearly faded, others seemed to be only a few years old. There were at least four generations represented here. Jane thought of filling a wall like this with pictures of her own family someday and her heart swelled.

There was a tap at the door and Owen walked in without waiting for her to respond. "Stacy's here. She brought your dress. Teri's on the way. I know what you said about dresses and bad luck, so I wanted to come see you before she did.

Jane stood up and wrapped her arms around him.

"Happy?" he asked.

"Yes. Very." She pressed a kiss to his cheek, brushed against it with the back of her hand. "This feel really good. All of it. The place. The timing. All of it."

"He took her hand in his and held it against his cheek. "You sure? We could still run away."

"Hmmm." Jane closed her eyes. "Tempting."

Stacy burst in then and kicked Owen OUT and everything started happening faster.

* * *

The church was modest but still lovely, decorated with green linens and two hundred plain glowing candle sticks. The candles weren't necessary with the warm glow of the stained glass laying in long stretches over the small group of friends and family, but they flickered and danced and added a touch of the mystical and the sacred to the afternoon. Owen's heart was moved by the number of people who were willing to drive down on less than a day's notice.

Jane and Owen stood on their own in front of the church. They had no bridal party. They weren't even wearing traditional wedding attire. Owen was wearing a dark suit with a blue tie, something very similar to the suit he had worn while high rolling in Vegas, but with Jane's choice of tie. Jane was breathtaking in a simple white cap-sleeved sundress that came to her knees with a wide black belt and a wreath of baby's breath in her hair.

Luis was offering a full Mass for their wedding. Jane and Owen both assured him that wasn't necessary, as neither they nor any of their families or friends were practicing Catholics. Olivia, in attendance with her boyfriend and Owen's nephew, was a notable exception. She was nearly giddy at the thought of her heathen brother having a church wedding. But Luis had blithely ignored Jane and Owen's assurances. He said the Mass with a characteristic jubilance. If Owen hadn't know how close to death his friend had come, he never would have guessed it from the _joie d'vivre_ he spoke and even sang with.

At a lull in the liturgy, Luis offered them a chance to say their own prepared words, to offer the vows they'd written for each other late last night. While Jane was clutching a crumbled piece of paper, Owen had his off by heart. The words had changed so much in the three months since their separation, but the love hadn't dimmed. In fact, it was bursting out of him.

He took her by both hands and looked into her face. He did not smile, but held her gaze.

"Jane, I can't promise I will never hurt you.

"I'm only a man.

"I can't promise that I will never distrust you or doubt you or be angry at you.

"You're only human, too.

"I can't even promise that I will never be dismissive or invalidate you, that I will never fail you or let you down.

"But I can promise, that if I ever hurt you, it will hurt me more, and I will move heaven and earth to mend the breech between us.

"I promise that if I ever distrust you or doubt you or if I ever feel angry at you, I will choose to look into myself, instead, and try to find the real source of my feelings.

"I promise that I will listen when you tell me I am wrong, that I will have faith in you even when the odds are against us, and that I will sacrifice everything of myself to meet your needs. I give myself to you forever without limits. You are the love of my life, forever."

Jane squeezed his fingers and the texture of of her skin, the warmth of her eyes held him steady; held him upright, kept him from falling.

* * *

Absent of any active role in this makeshift wedding, Stacy and Grayson were sitting in the third row, along with Teri, and a few friends of Owen. There was a little boy next to Stacy. He was very young. His feet didn't even reach the floor. He kept kicking them back and forth. Stacy poked him once playfully, then pretended to look away. He giggled.

His grandmother shushed him harshly. He looked over at Stacy with an "o" of dismay and she shrugged and looked up at the ceiling innocently.

He started picking at the sequins that lined the hem of her dress. For a second she was annoyed, but that quickly floated away when she saw the intensity in his gaze. He was twisting the colorful decorations this way and that to catch the candlelight. Stacy felt like the Dr. Seuss's Grinch - her petty little heart started growing until it didn't fit its usual cavity in her chest. She ruffled the little guy's hair, then pulled a blue highlighter out of her purse and a couple of sticky notes. She passed them to him. He looked up at her with twinkling eyes and started drawing stick men. The boy's grandmother pursed her lips in mild disapproval, but said nothing. She nodded politely to Stacy and pulled a roll of colored hard candy out of her purse, passing one to the boy, then to Stacy.

* * *

Jane took a deep breath. Owen's vows had left her teary and humbled. She looked into his serious grey eyes and a smile bloomed on her face. Not because she took her vows any less seriously than he did, but because she loved him. Especially right now she loved his smile - his warm, friendly smile - and she wanted to see it again before she said what she wanted to say. Three months ago she'd had no idea what to say to him. She had hardly known that she loved him then, that was the truth. Her love wasn't perfect now, but it was chosen of her own free will, and it was worth making a promise for.

"Owen," she began, "I can't say that I have never loved anyone else, because that would be a lie." Her hands trembled and now it was his turn to steady her with a clasp of her fingers.

She continued, "I can't even say that I love you more than I've ever loved anyone else, or deeper than anyone else, or that when I began to love you, I forgot about everyone else.

"I'm very sorry that I can't say those things, because you've made it clear that those are the feelings that you have for me.

"I can't say that I will never look at another man and wonder what could have been. I can't say that you will always be the first thing on my mind when I wake up or that you will be the last thing on my mind when I fall asleep every single night.

"But I can say that I want no other love for the rest of my life, because you are the perfect one for me. I choose you for my partner, Owen, to the exclusion of anyone else.

"I can say that I will never give my heart to another man as long as we both live, because you bring out the best in me and you make me want to be a better person every day.

"And I can say, with all my heart, that no matter how I may feel on a given day, no matter what I am worried about or what I am sad about or happy about, I will always respect and love you as my partner, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, in wealth or poverty. No matter what happens to us. I give you my past and I ask you to share my future. I give my heart to you to keep for ever without reservation."'

Luis smiled wetly and swiped at his eyes. "You can kiss her now, dude."

They kissed, and it was very good.

Luis raised his hands in exalted joy. "I now present to our friends and family, Mr. and Mrs. Owen and Jane French."

* * *

With less than forty people in attendance, there wasn't much of a receiving line, but there was a bit of a wait between the ceremony and the big dinner Nora was serving in the church basement. Each person came to Owen and Jane, pressed their hands or offered an embrace, and expressed their joy that the wedding had finally happened - as they were all very sure all along that it would. Most people wanted to talk with Jane, not with Owen. Although Owen had many friends in L.A., very few of them mattered enough to him to invite to the wedding at the last minute.

As each person came to talk with Jane, the person behind them was stuck making small talk with Owen. Owen didn't really care. His heart was on fire, he could talk with anyone, he could wait forever. Inevitable, though, the person stuck chatting with him was Grayson.

"So... big day," Grayson offered.

"Yep. Good one. Good day," Owen answered.

"Listen... congratulations," Grayson said. "Really. Just make Jane happy, okay? And congratulations. About this, and about the baby, too."

"Thanks, Grayson. I really appreciate it. Look, I owe you a huge apology. I was... not very nice to you. While Jane and I were dating. Afterward. All of it."

"Yeah. I guess I'm sorry, too."

"I'm apologizing, and I hope you will forgive me. But I'm also asking for your support. It's like Padre Luis said, a marriage has to have the support of the community. And whether we like each other or not, we're going to be in each other's community for a long time."

"You're asking me to be supportive of your marriage?"

"Owen shrugged. "I know it's a lot to ask."

"You know Stacy and I have been dating," Grayson said. "Sort of. Stacy wants to have a baby, and she asked me to, er, to help her out with that."

"Hey, congratulations, man. Oh... that's why you were in Jane's house that night. Stacy. Oh, jeez, and I thought..."

"Yeah, well. There wasn't anything between us besides... making a baby?" Grayson's face had a strange expression, as though he weren't willing to admit what he was saying. "But I didn't know that she would get pregnant right away, and when she did, we both agreed she would... end it. For my sake, mostly. I wasn't ready for it. Heart wasn't in it. And then I changed my mind, and then she lost the baby, and she was so sad, and I felt like... well, like I said it's kind of a long story. Kind of complicated. I haven't been a very nice person, myself. I meant to be, but..."

"I get it," Owen said. "But Jane said you might be moving in together?"

"Like I said, kind of a long story."

"You thinking about taking it to the next level?"

But Grayson had moved on to talk with Jane then.

* * *

In the meantime, it was Stacy who was holding up the line talking with Jane.

"Jane, I need to make a confession. I've had an apocrypha."

"An epiphany?"

"Yes." Stacy made the sign of the cross. "I want to apologize to you for doing Grayson behind your back."

Jane turned pink. "Oh, Stacy, this is _really_ not the time."

"If I can't ask for forgiveness in church, then where, Jane?"

"Stacy... shhh!"

"I would also like to ask for your permission to officially date Grayson."

"No permission necessary, Stace," Jane assured her. She sniffed and displayed her platinum wedding band. "I'm a married woman now, you know."

"But, it's like we always said - 'besties before testes.' Remember? And I went against that."

Jane felt the blush on her cheeks darkening. "I'm pretty sure it's against the Bible to talk about genitalia in church, Stace," she hissed. Then she giggled. "I forgot we used to say that."

"When you get home, I want to take you out for a long lunch, or maybe a spa day, okay?" Stacy said. "I have some ideas about my future and I need my bestie's opinion. Pretty please?"

"I promise, Stace, when we are all home again and settled, we will have a spa day - maybe a spa weekend. Okay?"

Jane wrapped her arms around her best friend - was it possible that Stacy was even thinner than usual?

* * *

As Nora's feast was winding down, Owen left his bride (reluctantly) to go and speak with Luis. The pastor was sitting in a dark corner with his family. His earlier enthusiasm was fading. He looked as though he had aged ten years since Owen saw him last.

"Mijito," Luis said warmly as Owen approached. "How is it with you?"

"Good, Luis. Very good. I didn't mean for this to be a big day for you. Just a quiet ceremony in your hospital room would have been fine."

"This was very good for me, Owen. I feel wonderful. Rejuvenated. To see you and you Jane become husband and wife, and to share this day with you, this is my great joy."

"Thank you. I can't tell you how happy I am."

"No need," Luis said. "I can feel it. And Nora has been telling me that you've already gone above and beyond helping the children."

"Well, I've had some help with that from some of the other lawyers, but there are still some loose ends."

"You and Jane are staying the weekend? Maybe I can help with the loose ends."

"We'll be in town until late Sunday night," Owen said. "My friend Fred is letting us use his house again for a few days."

"Good." Luis nodded. "Good. We will talk."

"I have something for you. For your ministry." Owen pulled a few colorful circles of plastic out from his pockets and laid them in Luis's palm. "I don't want to go anywhere near Vegas again for a very long time. Maybe you have someone you trust who can run down there and have these cashed."

Luis's face lost the little color it had left. "There are almost five thousand dollars in chips here, Owen," he said quietly.

"I'm not going back," Owen said. His voice held a hard edge. "If you don't accept them, they'll go to waste in my dresser drawer. Let them go to work for your church - for whatever it is you do. I'm not much of a believer myself, but I believe in you, Luis. You're a good man. Crazy. But good."

Luis clasped Owen's hands, then stood up and pulled him into a hug. "_Gracias_, my son. May the Lord return to you tenfold what you have given to me and my family, not only this money, but all the hard work bring the children home and now helping them fight their legal battles. _De verdad_, you are a soldier of God. On the side of the angels."

"I don't know about that," Owen said. "But I'll take your blessing, that's for sure. I'm going to need it."

Luis took Owen's words literally. He made the sign of the cross on Owen's forehead, murmuring words of a prayer in Spanish. Owen stood politely still with his head slightly bowed. When Luis was done, the older man sat down again.

"Luis, I have a question for you," Owen said.

"What is it?"

"Max - did his boat ever come back?"

Luis's face darkened. "We found the boat."

"But not Max?"

"We found Max, too."

"How is he?"

Luis shook his head sadly.

"Oh." Owen understood. "I'm so sorry."

Luis nodded, his face blank. "Come and see me tomorrow, Owen, and I will tell you the story of Max and his connection to Santa Juanita. Not today. Let today be only a day of gladness. Go back to your wife now. Soon we will send everyone away and you can return to Seňor Vann's house, and you can begin your life together in peace and joy and unity." He smiled.

So Owen did.

And they did.


End file.
